The Esper
by TravisLambert
Summary: A 67,000-word novelization of Final Fantasy VI, a.k.a. Final Fantasy III, covering the time from Terra's awakening after her first encounter with the Esper to her second encounter with the Esper after the battle at Narshe.
1. Part 1, Chapter 1

Dedication and Author's Note

To Walter Hooper

And to my wife, Michelle,  
who listened to each chapter as it was written  
and who was and is my greatest source of encouragement

Special thanks to Jared Dean Randall and Dr. Marsha Daigle-Williamson, who read and reviewed this book.

Based on Final Fantasy III (a.k.a. Final Fantasy VI), an installment of the Final Fantasy video game franchise, _The Esper_ is a full-length literary fantasy novel about a young woman, Terra, who wakes with no memory of herself after a near-fatal encounter with a frozen god (i.e., a frozen Esper). Soon after her awakening, Terra finds herself on the run with members of a resistance group, which is significant because she herself was a soldier in the imperial army prior to her encounter with the Esper. Terra must now find her identity in a world on the brink of war, a hope which is further complicated by her rediscovery of her magic abilities (which she has to relearn to use). Both the empire and the resistance will stop at nothing to have her, for Terra's powers make her a mighty weapon and, more importantly, Terra may be the only link between mankind and the Esper (and possible immortality), facts which suggest that she too may have divine origins.

In writing _The Esper_, I've taken 32-bit, two-dimensional characters and brought them to life on the landscape of epic fantasy. Pixilated characters with plot-necessitated lines have been transformed into fully developed personalities, and battles played with action menus have been replaced by Homeric wars. The simple power-is-exploited-by-villains moral has been superseded by a whole system of theologically and mythologically resonant subtleties. Literary allusions abound.

**The story and characters are owned by Square-Enix; Square-Enix reserves all rights to the Final Fantasy series.** I take many liberties in _The Esper_ and it is by no means a close adaptation of the game. It covers the period between Terra's awakening after her encounter with the Esper and her second encounter with the Esper after the battle at Narshe. I have no intention of writing the other two books in what was going to be a trilogy, since I am now working on an entirely original work called _Ianthina_ which shares the same motif.

It may take me some time to upload the entire 66,000-word novel to . If you don't want to wait, you can read the whole novel on my website.

CHAPTER ONE

THE LADY STIRS

The dreams of fever are madness. Half-formed, melting, merging figures of men and beasts, waves and trees, light and darkness, writhing and pulsing in phantasmagoric chaos—the woman's dreams were haunted by these shapes as she lay on her sickbed. In waking and sleeping, the visions that passed before her broken mind—insane, frightening things that always lingered on the edge of meaning before impishly disdaining form and slipping into shapeless fears again—kept her from drawing a clear distinction between reality and fantasy, waking and dreaming.

And yet there was one demon, one monster, which frequently appeared before her mind's eye: a feathered, clawed abomination, frozen, caged in ice, shrieking its terrible screech and burning her with its fiery eyes. The frozen monster raised her to such a pitch of terror that her consciousness drove itself back to the furthest depths of her mind and sought to annihilate itself. Anything, anything to escape the monster. And so the woman's psyche shattered itself on the rocks of imbecility.

These are the demons that haunted the dreams of the woman whose story I tell, if that Word Eternal deigns to lend flesh to thoughts, gives them words, and if that Spirit Who grants and revokes the tongues of men gives them understanding.

She writhed and muttered pitiably on her sickbed, her only attendant a wizened and tired-looking old man, who even now was emerging in her mind like a distant light from her nightmares. Gradually she awoke and found herself lying in a cold sweat. How long she had lain in her fever-bed she didn't know. She gazed up, at first blankly, but with growing awareness, at the old man dabbing her face and neck with a damp rag. After having been mad for so long, the woman let the peace of stillness wash over her. She had begun to cry.

"There there, sweetheart," said the old man. "It's okay. You've been sick for a long time now, but you're coming around." He turned aside to re-soak the rag in a basin, and the woman gasped, for part of his face was hideously scarred, as if he had been recently burned. But he didn't appear to have noticed her reaction, for when he turned towards her again he smiled with paternal affection and continued to gently dab her forehead. She didn't know if his burns still caused him pain, but they didn't seem to hinder his work, which he performed with all the kindness of a father nursing his daughter back to health or a man handling some delicate and priceless treasure. His left eye (the one on the burned side of his face), browless and nearly shut with scar tissue, was opaque, as if a white film was over it—_Blind_, she thought. His good eye was dark and wrinkled with crows-feet when he smiled.

And now she began to take in her surroundings. She was not in a house but a cave. There were oil lamps on a table, pots, and phials filled with various colored liquids, as well as other medical instruments. But if it was strange to her that she lived in a cave, it was stranger that it appeared to bear the marks of fire damage. Here and there were singed edges and charred holes in the furniture and black spots on the walls and ceiling. Even her blanket had scorch marks and smelled like smoke. It was as if some tiny white-hot star with a mind of its own had bounced around the cave, scarring everything it touched.

"Are you ready to try and eat something?" said the old man.

"Yes," said a woman's voice, and it took her a moment to realize that it was her own, for she did not recognize it. _What is my name?_—the question suddenly occurred to her. But at the same time, she realized just how hungry she was. She was famished. The old man got up and went and stirred the coals in an iron stove, then put a pot on. While the stew was cooking, the old man gave her a cup of water to slake her incredible thirst. The woman sat up with some effort, for her long sickness had sapped her strength.

"Do you remember anything?" said the old man.

The woman thought for a moment, then shook her head. She knew it should have disturbed her more than it did, but in her state, food and drink seemed more important. She did not yet have the strength for the question of her identity.

"Do you know who you are?" he said a moment later, but then, when she didn't answer, he reproached himself. "I'm sorry. I'm a fool to question you so soon. I should leave you alone for a while and let you regain your strength. You've been out for a long time."

"How long?" asked the woman.

"Oh, it must have been at least three months since we found you."

"_Found_ me? Am I not your granddaughter, then? And who's _we_?"

"Not now, child. You don't have the strength yet for that long and hard tale. Get some rest. I'll tell you when you're ready."

The woman lay back down, for indeed she was exhausted from such simple exertions.

After two or three weeks (as nearly as she could reckon, since no sunlight reached into the cave), when she was strong enough to walk around the room without leaning on Arvis's shoulder (for that was the old man's name), he told her that the time had come for her to learn about herself. She knew by now that he was not her father or grandfather, though her heart had already grown to love him during her rehabilitation. She was now waiting for Arvis to return, for he left (for the first time in her memory) to deliver a message to the "others." She had asked who the others were, but, with a great sigh and a look of sadness, as if he too sensed that their simple, happy life together was drawing to a close, he said that it must wait till he returned.

The young woman was looking at herself in a mirror. She didn't recognize her own face. She had fair skin, gray eyes, and long, wavy, dark red hair. She had a pretty, heart-shaped face and a comely body, though petite. In fact, she was quite beautiful, even though she had the look of one wasted by illness. She imagined how beautiful she must have been before, but without vanity. The woman had little thought for her own beauty, and considered it as a man considers his assets when he sits down to manage his money—something good and bounteous, but at the same time something one considers with a degree of detachment.

There was some fear but also some nobility in her eyes. It did not occur to her that she might be royalty. It was not that kind of nobility; it was more rustic than civilized. It was a kind of nobility whose place was in a forest or a temple or even a battlefield, rather than in a court. There was—and this was perhaps the most difficult observation—a strange mixture of wildness and refinement, power and restraint. But all this might have been her imagination, a groping in the dark for some trace of her identity. You or I might have simply seen a woman who would have been extremely beautiful were it not for her pale and wretched sickness.

The woman thought about what her past might hold. She had a sense that, whatever it was, it was some great and ominous thing, which would soon overtake her. She saw in her face a slight tinge of regret, knowing that, when Arvis came back, the happy little world they had inhabited together for the past few weeks would be no more, expanded beyond all control into a wide world of mysterious and great matters. She could not have told you then why she felt thus, why she could not have been an ordinary farmer's daughter who had fallen ill and gotten lost. Perhaps it was Arvis's secrecy or some undefined notion left partly intact in her memory. And though she could wish she were still sick, so that her now simple life with her surrogate father would continue, she also felt (not without foreboding) that she must know the truth.

All the time the woman was recuperating, the subject of her identity managed not to come up, though it was not because they didn't talk. They laughed and cooked and read books together. For Arvis had many books, though most of them were about medicine, some of which he had written himself, for he was in fact a doctor and an alchemist (or a philosopher, as they used to be called). The woman even helped him with some of his experiments—that is, she handed him whatever phial or metal shavings he asked for.

But the books that they read to each other were stories, mostly chivalric romances and pastorals, occasionally a book of verse or a sacred text. They were illuminated with the most colorful and elaborate pictures. From these the woman surmised that Arvis was very rich, which meant that he lived in a cave not out of poverty but because they were in hiding.

Although she was no longer sick, there was still the recurring image of the monster trapped in ice which haunted her dreams, though it did not now hold the terror for her that it once did. She was trying to banish its image from her mind when she saw the glow of a torch and heard the slow step of Arvis. She fortified her heart with courage and met him as confidently as she could, though from the first moment their eyes met they both understood that the time had come for them to part. They sat down at the table and a heavy silence fell between them, which, after an uncomfortable moment, was broken by Arvis:

"I suppose it's time to tell you. But before I do I want you to know that, whatever you've done, it's in the past. All that matters is the choices you make now. Some of the others are not as forgiving as I am, but I believe you had been deceived, forced to become—"

"A prostitute?" the woman interrupted.

"No, Lord bless you," he said with a feeble laugh. "Not a prostitute. It's much worse than that, I'm afraid."

"What, then?"

"Well," said Arvis, "I suppose I should tell you, first, that your name is Terra"—the name was alien to her—"We found you in the mountains, not two miles from the city of Narsha, unconscious next to two corpses that we believe were imperial soldiers. You were found near the Esper."

"What's an Esper?" said Terra.

"A god," said Arvis. "It is perhaps the only one left in the world, the last vestige of the age of gods and magic."

"So who am I?"

Arvis sighed. "You are—or were—a soldier in the imperial army. You belonged to the Empire."

"A soldier? Me?" said Terra doubtfully. "How is that possible? And how is a soldier worse than a prostitute?"

Arvis suddenly looked very stern. "The Empire is a wicked and tyrannous thing. Its lust for power is insatiable. Its crimes against the people are so heinous you would blush to hear them, my child."

Terra grew silent. She'd never seen him so grave. "I'm sorry, Arvis; I didn't know. I just—"

Terra didn't have time to finish her sentence, for she distinctly heard voices in the tunnels, soon followed by the yellow glow of torches. Arvis heard them at the same time, for he said, "Soldiers! They must have followed me. Quick, this way!" and before she knew it, they dashed out of the room and Arvis led Terra down a passageway (which she hadn't noticed before), Arvis holding a lamp aloft and going as fast as his legs could carry him, through corridors and caverns which he must have known by heart. And as they hurried, here and there making a turn, Terra heard the echoing voices and footsteps of their pursuers, a sound which came from so many different tunnels that she couldn't tell their distance or direction. But after several minutes, Arvis seemed to have lost them.

At last, Arvis led her to the mouth of a long, narrow tunnel sloping upward, and he stopped and picked up a leather bag which had been hidden behind a rock.

"There is food, money, and a sword in here (you'll know how to use it)," said Arvis, out of breath. "Follow this tunnel all the way—there are no turns, so you won't get lost—until you reach the surface. You'll come up on the outskirts of Narsha. There will be a small cottage nearby between a boulder and a pine forest. A young man lives there by the name of Locke. He's one of us."

"But who is 'us'?" said Terra, taking the bag. Arvis lit another lamp and gave it to her.

"I'm sorry I don't have time to explain. I hope we meet again. Be safe. Don't let yourself be taken by the Empire, Terra. May the gods grant you mercy. Now fly!"


	2. Part 1, Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

LOCKE

And so Terra's worst fear had been realized. She was alone. Arvis was gone, and she was walking with a lamp and a drawn sword up a long tunnel toward the uncertain future, towards enemies and friends alike unknown. There were no sounds but her own breathing and footsteps. The air was dry and icy cold without the warmth of Arvis' stove, and Terra stopped to check her bag for clothes. Thankfully, there was a thick, white fur which she wrapped around herself, as well as some jerky and rock-hard bread, and a flask of water.

Now there was nothing to do while she climbed the interminable path but think about what she had been told. First, she wondered what great strength or skill she must possess if she had been a soldier, for there was no denying that she was a woman, and a small one at that. Whatever skill her arm possessed with a sword, would she have been able to stand against a full-grown man? The idea of it made her laugh, and she doubted that Arvis had been correct on that point.

Secondly, although she trusted Arvis implicitly, she didn't feel any indignation at the mention of the Empire. Was it really as evil as he said, or was he just an old man with very strong political opinions? But, of course, she would assume that he was right until she had some experience of her own. After all, was she not now fleeing from soldiers that were probably her comrades, and from whom she had nothing to fear? Was she not running to another member of Arvis' mysterious group? Undoubtedly Arvis was part of some underground resistance movement into whose hands she had fallen. Which side was the right one, if indeed there was a right side? Why not go back to the people she had been told she was part of? What business was it of hers to get involved in this conflict? All she wanted was a life of peace. Terra didn't come to any conclusion on the subject, and so she decided she might as well continue on to meet this Locke that Arvis mentioned, for if she dared turn back she would be lost forever in the tunnels.

She could make even less sense out of the circumstances under which she had been found. She'd been discovered unconscious next to the remains of two imperial soldiers? In the mountains near the last of the gods? She couldn't begin to imagine what she'd been doing there, and the thought of meeting a god filled her with dread.

After what seemed like hours of walking, Terra began to see a faint light as of daylight, and every once in a while, a whistling, roaring sound, which soon showed itself to be the wind. The wind now reached her and an icy blast blew back her hair. Terra wrapped the fur tighter around herself and continued on. The light was white, not golden, and by the time she saw the opening, she was certain that it was winter.

At last Terra found herself at the mouth of the cave, partly shielded from a mighty, roaring gale and a thick, fast-falling snow. A sudden gust picked up a powdery layer of snow and stung her face. When she looked again she saw that ahead, within a hundred meters, was a thicket of pine trees, covered in white. And when she peeked out of the cave she saw a nearby cabin in the shadow of a great boulder, a fragment of the foot of a mountain. She could not see clearly much further than this because of the snowfall, but she thought she saw distant peaks and the lights of the city of Narsha, cradled in the mountains. A sudden and inexplicable fear grew upon her as she strained to see the mountaintop, and she quickly averted her eyes.

Pulling the fur hood over her head, she left the cave and trudged through the thick snow towards the cabin, bowed a little so as not to take the full force of the biting wind in the face. She shivered terribly as she pounded on the door. Having to stand still was the worst. She knocked again but there was still no answer. She tried the door and found it locked. Terra could have screamed. Vainly she tried to shake the handle. _Let me in! _she thought, and then, just at that moment, the lock clicked. She paused, but whoever it was who had unlocked it did not open the door. "This Locke must be a very rude person," she said to herself, and opened the door quickly and shut it behind her, though the wind was trying to force it open.

When she turned around she found that the place was deserted, though it showed signs that its occupant had not been gone long. There was a small fire aglow in an iron stove, with a kettle and several pots on it. There was a messy assortment of things strewn about the floor and on the bed: boots, trinkets, spoons, clothes, and a lot of junk of various descriptions. "You're Locke friend is a slob and a packrat, Arvis," said Terra aloud.

She walked around, stepping lighting between piles of trash, and picked up an overturned mug on the table. When she did so she noticed that the spilled coffee was still warm—"Not just warm," thought Terra. "This is still hot."

And then several things happened all at once. There was a sudden pounding on the front door, and at the same time, the noise of a large piece of furniture moving behind her. But before Terra could turn around there were two quick footsteps and suddenly someone grabbed her from behind and covered her mouth. She struggled fiercely for a moment, but the person pulled her backwards into a secret compartment in the wall, a man's voice whispered quickly, "Not a sound!", and he pulled a lever, which caused the section of wall to slide shut again. It was not a moment too soon, for Terra heard the sound of the front door crashing open and several pairs of heavy boots trod on the floorboards.

Terra stopped struggling. Both she and her captor were very still, listening. Terra reached up carefully and removed the hand from her mouth.

"There's no one here, sir," said a voice.

"Idiots!" cried a shrill, cruel male voice. "There were footprints leading up to the door. Find her! Find her, find her!" And the shrill voice gave an excited, quivering laugh that made a cold shiver run down Terra's spine. She was not alone in this, for she felt the man's body give an involuntary shudder. If it had not been for the wicked laugh, Terra might have screamed for the soldiers. But it had struck her dumb.

She now heard the crashing and ripping sounds of the soldiers tearing the cottage apart. It sounded like there were more men knocking on the door, but to her horror, Terra realized that they were knocking on the floor and walls to see if they were hollow. _They're going to find us!_ thought Terra, her heart pounding so loudly that she was afraid it would give them away.

And then there came the slow footsteps towards them that Terra was sure belonged to the man with the evil laugh. The footsteps stopped and Terra knew that he was standing right on the other side of the wall. The suspense was broken by the sound of the front door opening yet again, and another man saying, "General Kefka, we've discovered where the terrorists have been keeping the girl. And we've caught Arvis Theophrastus, sir; we're interrogating him now." There was a sharp intake of breath from the man behind her at this last piece of news.

"Bring me to him!" barked Kefka, and in a moment Terra heard the soldiers march out of the cottage and slam the door behind them. But something was wrong; neither Terra nor Locke (for she was sure it was him) moved, and Locke needlessly put a finger to her lips to tell her to remain silent. After a few moments of silence, Terra heard the last soldier walk out.

Locke let out a sigh of relief and hit the lever which opened the secret compartment. When they were both in the room, Terra turned to look at him. He was an attractive young man, in a grungy kind of way. He had a kind of permanent mischievous grin on his face, scraggly dirty brown hair, ragged brown clothes and black, fingerless gloves. The grin remained even when he was angry.

"It was good of you not to scream for your soldiers, you Magitek-riding imperial witch! But let's get one thing straight: if I so much as _suspect_ you're trying to double-cross us, I'll cut your pretty little throat."

Terra stood in shock for a moment with her mouth open, and then suddenly, so suddenly in fact that she surprised herself, she retorted, "How dare you talk to me like that, you filthy little whoreson! What have I ever done to you!"

"Keep your voice down!" yelled Locke at the top of his voice. "Do you want those soldiers to come back, you imperial witch?"

"Stop calling me that!" screamed Terra, her fists trembling and a fire dancing in her eyes. Locke looked into her eyes and seemed to restrain himself from saying more.

Slowly, and in a calmer voice, he said, "Do you wash your hands of what the Empire did to Kohlingen, Miranda, _Doma_?" He laid special emphasis on this last name.

"I've never even heard of those people!" said Terra.

"'People'?" Locke laughed. "Those are cities."

"Well," said Terra, quieter, "I've never heard of those cities, then. I don't remember anything before waking up in Arvis's cave."

"No recollection whatsoever?"

"None."

"Oh," said Locke, and a complete change came over him, and he smiled and extended a friendly hand, saying, "The name's Locke, son of Cole—treasure hunter. Pleased to meet you. Coffee?"

"Terra, former imperial witch, and I'd love some," she replied shortly, still flustered, but charmed by his impulsiveness.


	3. Part 1, Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

FLIGHT FROM NARSHA

It was a miracle that there was any coffee to drink, for it looked like a tornado had swept through Locke's house, overturning everything but a single pot on the stove. Locke and Terra picked up a couple of chairs and mugs, and Locke grabbed the pot and filled their cups. He talked and moved very fast, like a sparrow or a hummingbird, and in general was a very lively character.

Terra looked around at the mess, suppressing the urge to straighten the pictures and put the bed back on all fours, and instead said, "I think the soldiers made quite an improvement."

Locke nearly choked on his coffee, shot her his mischievous grin, pointed at her for a moment as if to say, "Good one," and then said, "'Fraid I never have time to clean it. Always out on important business for the Returners, you see, or looking for treasure."

"You mean you're a thief?"

"Treasure hunter!" said Locke forcefully but without anger. He sipped his coffee rapidly, trying not to burn himself at the same time. He was an amicable, hearty, good-natured, whimsical soul, Terra thought, though no doubt his personality would sometimes be irritating.

"What are the Returners?" asked Terra.

"We're the revolution, baby! We're gonna take down that damn Empire, brick by brick."

"I see," said Terra, smiling.

"But we need to get you back to HQ," said Locke, as if this had suddenly occurred to him. And he stood up abruptly, knocking his chair over. "Arvis said he was going to take you to the hideout as soon as you got better. But Arvis has been arrested, which means I have to take you—protect you—and we'd better stop by Figaro. We need the king's skills. Come on, get up; what are you waiting for?"

"What...now?" said Terra.

"Yes, now! Those soldiers could come back any second!"

"But what about Arvis?"

Locke grabbed her shoulders and looked her straight in the face, and taking a sudden turn for the serious, said, "Dead, most likely. Or tortured into telling them where you've gone (which is here!) and then killed! We don't have a moment to lose!"

"What!" said Terra, excited herself now. She didn't know whether this sudden urgency was necessary or whether Locke was just being dramatic, but all the same she was now terribly afraid for Arvis. "But we've got to do something! I have to turn myself in, before they…before they—"

"Don't be stupid!" said Locke, "They'd kill him anyway, and then they'd make you join their army again or kill you on the spot!"

"But I can't bear to think that he'd be tortured because of me."

"No choice. Look, Terra, we all knew what we were getting ourselves into when we joined up. Arvis and Banon thought it important enough to save you and try to turn you, otherwise they would have killed you. They may ask me to kill you yet, and I must admit that that would make me very sad. You're kinda growin' on me, kid"—at this point he gave her an affectionate punch in the shoulder—"So get your things. Let's head out."

In no time Locke was packed: food, weapons (Locke seemed to have an infinite number of knives hidden on his person), clothes, and money. When they reached the front door, Locke stopped suddenly and turned on his heel to look at Terra.

"How did you get in, by the way?" he said, eyeing her.

"I thought you unlocked the door," she said. Locke continued to stare, as if expecting more. "Bad lock, I guess?" He shrugged, turned, and opened the door, and Terra found—when the icy blast hit her—that the wind and the snow had not abated in the least. If anything, it had grown worse.

"How are we going to get to Figaro?" Terra yelled into the roaring wind, as she hopped behind in Locke's footsteps as he plowed through the snow. Locke yelled something back that she didn't quite catch. It sounded like "Cocoa." "What?" she said. He said it again, but she didn't understand any better the second time.

Locke led her into the pine forest on what might have been a beaten path, were it not for knee-deep snow (knee-deep for Terra, that is) that had reached the forest floor. The going was hard, though the trees restrained the wind a little. But even though she walked in Locke's footsteps, Terra still found it difficult to keep up.

"Wait!" she cried, and Locke slowed his pace. After a few minutes, the trees grew thicker and denser, and the wind died down altogether.

"Chocobo," said Locke, and Terra looked up to find that they were near a little stable, inside which there were three harnessed animals which could best be described as huge, yellow, flightless birds with orange beaks and big, innocent eyes. "Chocobo," said Locke again. "I don't know if you've ever ridden one before, though, with all ships and Magitek riding-armor you must have—"

Terra didn't know what he was taking about, but she put one foot in a stirrup and swung her leg over the other side. Before Locke had finished speaking, she was sitting comfortably and rubbing her Chocobo's head as it squawked affectionately. "Apparently I have," she said, and Locke gave her a wink and mounted his own. "What about that one?" said Terra, indicating the third Chocobo.

"Cecil? I suppose we'll have to let him go," he said with a sigh. Locke cut it loose, gave it a smack on the behind, and they both sat mounted, sadly and solemnly watching it wander off into the woods. This was the only funeral they could give to Arvis.

After a moment (longer than Terra believed Locke was capable of sitting still), Locke clicked his tongue twice and steered his Chocobo's head towards the path. Terra did the same.

Once they were out of the woods, heading south with Narsha to their backs, conversation was impossible, for the howling wind returned. Terra gave the reins more slack and let her Chocobo follow Locke's, so that she didn't have to face the wind. She bent until she was almost laying on the Chocobo, which moved more gracefully than a horse—not hopping, as you might think, like a little bird. Sleep came almost before she realized that she was tired, for in spite of all the excitement since her flight from Arvis's cave (which seemed like years, not just hours, away now), she was still very weak.

And then there was the monster in ice once more, screeching—that terrifying sound!—and its eyes glowing brighter, brighter, and then the screaming of men in agony, and the stench of burning flesh, and Terra's eyes being burned out of her head—

"Terra!"

Terra screamed awake and drew her sword.

"Let go," said Locke. "Let go!" Terra looked at him, and after a moment she recognized him. She was lying in the entrance of a small cave, little more than a recess in the rock. There was a small fire burning, the Chocobo were tied to a tree outside, and Locke was kneeling beside her with both hands gripping her right arm. The sword was still in her hand. "Let go!" Terra relaxed her grip, and Locke put her sword down, and gestured to it to stay put.

"You've got one hell of a grip, girl!" said Locke. "A little jumpy, though. You almost took my head off!" He touched his head to make sure it was still attached.

"Sorry," said Terra. "Where are we?" It was nearly dusk.

"Just off the main road, about ten days north of Figaro Castle, as the Chocobo flies (figuratively speaking)," then added to the Chocobo, "No offense, guys."

Turning back to Terra, he said, "That was quite a nightmare. I think, for my sake, you'd better not sleep with your sword."

"Sorry," she apologized again. "I have the same dream every night."

"What's it about?"

"Well, there is this frozen monster, and it's screeching, and its eyes—"

"Glow?" said Locke, finishing her sentence for her. "And it has feathers and claws and isn't too fond of imperial soldiers?"

"Yeah," said Terra, and then it occurred to her. "Was that the god, the what's-it-called?"

"The Esper," said Locke. "So you do remember something after all."

"Only in the dream," said Terra, and she looked at him to see if he would fly into a fury again.

"It was me who found you," said Locke. "You were half dead, and your comrades were little more than a couple of helmets, shields, and surprisingly small piles of ash. You must be one tough cookie. Banon thinks you were on a mission to capture the Esper."

"Why?"

"How should I know?" said Locke. "I'd never be stupid enough to try to take a god, and wouldn't to know what to do with one if I did. But I wouldn't put anything past the Emperor, or Kefka."

"Who is this Banon person you keep mentioning?" asked Terra.

"The big man himself."

"The leader of your little rebellion?" said Terra, but knew before the words were out of her mouth that she'd made a mistake.

"'_Little_ rebellion'! This is the revolution! This is—"

"Okay, okay," said Terra, slightly annoyed, "I didn't mean anything by it. So we're going to see Banon at the Returners' hideout—I mean, headquarters. Then what? What exactly are we doing? Are we just going to run from the Empire for the rest of our lives?"

Locke cocked his head in thought for a moment. "I don't know. First we have to get to Figaro, and get the king to help us. After that…"

"You've got a king in your reb—I mean, revolution?"

Locke seemed not to hear her. "After that, I suppose Banon will decide what to do with you."

"So I'm just a bargaining chip in the Returners' pocket, a hostage, a pawn, a—"

Locke whistled. "Relax; don't get your whiskers in a knot, kitten. You're not a hostage. The Revolution could use skills like yours."

"What makes you any different from the Empire? You both want to use me, and you both would rather kill me than let me be used by the other side!"

For what might have been the first time in his life, Locke seemed to be at a loss for words. Finally, serious again, Locke said, "You're right. I'll tell you what: When we get to HQ, when Banon gives you the facts—"

"Or terrorist propaganda," said Terra, though she knew in her heart that this wasn't true.

Locke continued: "After Banon gives you the facts, we'll give you a choice: join the Returners or go back to the Empire. I doubt _they_ would give you such a choice."

Terra was outraged that she had to make such a choice, but the more she thought about it, the more she felt that the choice would come upon her eventually. The only choice she could not make was not to choose; there was no neutral ground. "How do I know that they won't kill me if I decide not to join?" said Terra accusingly.

"Because I personally will protect you. I'll escort you to the nearest imperial post if you decide to go back. I give you my word."

"Well that's reassuring!" said Terra with a sneer. "You were willing to cut my throat this morning; now you're my sworn protector? How do I know you won't be my mortal enemy by nightfall?"

Locke dismissed her allusion to his threat with his hand as if swatting a fly. "That was just to test your loyalties; I could never kill a woman," and then he looked at her, and added, "I swear on the tomb of Rachel Beatrice Finola that I would die to protect you."

Terra, finding tears in her eyes, nodded. They shook hands, each with their hand on the other's forearm, which Terra knew instinctively was a solemn covenant, which even the most hardened sinner would not break for fear of bad luck or the wrath of the gods.

Not long after dinner, Terra fell asleep thinking about who Rachel Beatrice Finola might have been, and what dark secret Locke's past might hold. She felt safe, and slept soundly, and was troubled by no dreams of gods and demons.


	4. Part 1, Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

A STRANGE OCCURENCE

Terra grew stronger every day. She and Locke could ride and walk their Chocobo longer, taking fewer rests, and making camp later every night. After the first day, Locke avoided the main road and villages, for it was not speed but stealth that they would need to reach Figaro. "After all," Terra thought, "we're as likely to have enemies ahead as behind."

By the second day, the snowfall stopped and the wind abated, which pleased Terra very much. "But now there's no snow to cover our tracks," said Locke. "Trackers can pick up our trail."

When Locke and Terra were only five days' ride from Figaro, the snowy peaks and the broad, white valleys yielded to smaller mountains, jagged and red, and green meadows and forests. The forests were dark and, according to Locke, filled with strange and dangerous beasts. Nevertheless, they had to make camp there in order to stay out of the open. "Besides," said Locke, "we won't have anything to worry about unless we stray too far in. Nothing dangerous lives on the edge of the forest."

And so, after having set up an early camp (for they had traveled a long way and their Chocobo were tired) in a small clearing in the forest, Locke went off hunting and Terra set out to find a suitable place for a bath.

"Take these with you," said Locke, handing her a bow and quiver. "The one with the green feather is a signal arrow. If you get into trouble, shoot it straight up in the air and I'll be there before it hits the ground." And with that, Locke gave her a hearty wink, slung his own quiver over his shoulder, and disappeared into the trees. Terra examined the green-feathered arrow. The arrowhead was a hollow, wooden chamber dotted with air holes.

Terra took her sword and walked cautiously into the forest, treading lightly and making little noise. She had a keen sense of direction and memorized the landmarks on her path.

It was remarkably still, as if the whole wood had stopped what it was doing to gape silently at the human who had interrupted its tranquility. Terra had the uncomfortable feeling of being watched. But at last she found the object of her search: a quiet pond, clear as glass, in a sunny enclosure. She had a sense about the serendipitous pool. Perhaps it had some enchantment on it or was the home of some fantastic creature. But after throwing a rock into the pond, and seeing nothing happen, Terra chalked it up to her imagination, undressed, and slipped into the water.

She shivered at first, but acclimated to the temperature by doing a couple laps over the length of the pond. Terra was just beginning to enjoy the journey and to forget that there was a larger world, an Empire on their heels, when she heard a sound that made her heart catch in her throat. While she was still out a ways from the bank, Terra heard a stick snap somewhere in the wood nearby.

"Locke!" she said, and in a sudden fury resolved to beat him within an inch of his life with the flat of her sword for spying on her. But then, to her terror, another man stepped out onto the bank—a big man with a greedy, piggish face and brown, imperialistic clothing. A tracker!

Terra screamed as she met his eyes, and a disgusting grin formed on his face. He was standing over her clothes and her weapons. She glanced at her bow at his feet. The ugly man started to unbuckle his belt and Terra screamed and fixed him with a stare that might have bored a hole through his brain with her wrath, her heart racing in mortal terror and her face growing hot. And as she stared at the man, breathing hard, she noticed something that must have already begun a moment before.

The avid look on his face had been replaced by one of pale horror. His eyes crossed to look at his nose, which was elongating from his face to form a snout and pushing his eyes—which were now black as beads—to the sides of his head. His ears grew to points at the top of his head, even as tusks grew out of his lower jaw and curved up. The tracker's clothes melted into his body, which was sprouting brown fur all over.

This takes a long time to tell, but all these changes happened simultaneously in a moment. The man's panicked yell turned into a high, horrible squeal, and he fell down on all fours. The wild boar trampled away through the undergrowth squealing in mad frenzy.

As frightened as she was, the first thing Terra did was swim to shore, dress, and arm herself. With trembling fingers, she docked the signal arrow, aimed skyward, and drew the bow. But, for whatever reason, she did not let the arrow fly. Terra unbent her bow, slumped down against a tree, and wept.

She cried because she had been naked and afraid. She cried because she was nowhere safe, because the Empire was crushing her with its presence, because she hadn't cried for Arvis, and because now she was alone and free at last to weep. She cried for many reasons, and in so doing felt a great burden lifted from her, as if the fear and strain had been floodwaters building up against a dam of her heart. It was a happy fiction to believe that she could cry away her troubles—or perhaps it would allow her to face them with courage.

Finally Terra wiped her eyes and recomposed herself, checking her reflection in the glassy water to see if it looked like she'd been crying. Then, satisfied, she left the pond with a mixture of fear and gratitude, supposing that the place had been enchanted after all. She picked herself up and made her way back to camp, where she found Locke already roasting dinner.

"Took you long enough, kiddo. I was thinking about sending out a search party. (Of course, it would have been a party of one.) Did you get lost?"

Terra shook her head. Locke eyed her suspiciously while handing her a spit of cooked, salted meat.

"You get into trouble?" he asked.

Terra considered for a moment, but again shook her head. Locke continued to shoot interrogating glances at her, clearly trying to discern the reason for her sudden silence. And either from a desire to draw her out by conversation, or else to fill up the heavy silence which had fallen between them, Locke told her about his hunt.

"So, I was hiding in a bush, about to shoot this buck, when a boar came rampaging out of the woods—something must have scared the hell out of him—and I put two arrows into him before he even noticed. But the strangest thing was—Hey! Don't spit that out; that's good pork!"

"Locke," Terra said. "I saw a tracker."

"A tracker!" said Locke, who was instantly on his feet with his knives out and scanning the trees. "Did he see you?"

Terra hesitated. "No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I think we'd better go. I'm strong enough to travel by night."

"You're right," said Locke. "I'll get the gear; you put out the fire and bring the hog."

"No; there's no time to take it with us. I'll put out the fire and help you pack. Not another bite, Locke."

If Locke was surprised by Terra's insistence on leaving the boar, he didn't show it. In record time, Locke packed up their things, loaded the Chocobo, and then he and Terra mounted the birds. All the while Locke kept a sharp eye on the surrounding woods. Terra had helped Locke pack with great efficiency, not bothering to stay alert, and giving a shudder of revulsion every time her eye chanced to fall upon the skewered boar, with its bulging eyes and hideous expression.

And so Locke and Terra walked their Chocobo by moonlight through endless fields and valleys, with mountains on either side growing smaller but more numerous. Here and there, especially on the sides of steep hills, were patches of sand which shone blue in the moonlight.

Over the next five days Locke led them almost without stopping south across the increasing wastes of sand. Terra was strong enough now that their Chocobo tired before she did, and she could keep pace with Locke almost without difficulty. Her military mettle had returned (she supposed), and that made her proud.

They slept less and less and always during the day. Locke insisted that they also sleep in shifts, so that the other could keep a lookout. But they encountered no trouble for the rest of their journey to Figaro. No trouble, that is, from man. Nature beset them with new difficulties.

If she had not guessed it before, Terra knew now that they were headed straight into a desert. It was not sand but grass that was scarce and patchy now. The sand was vast, and wavy, and underwater-looking mirages danced on the horizon. Water became harder to find, and there were long spaces when Terra grew lightheaded, almost delirious from the heat. The desert was freezing at night and sweltering during the day. Terra patted her Chocobo's beak and spoke soothing words to it when it squawked pitifully, for the cruel, hot sand burned its feet. The Chocobos' tongues lolled out of their mouths, and only when they began to stumble would Locke admit that it was time for a break.

Another problem, which made Locke and Terra considerably nervous, was that they had to travel from one oasis to another, and camp there; and anyone travelling through the desert would be sure follow the same route. For all they knew, there might be a unit of imperial soldiers waiting to ambush them at the next watering hole. But, as I have said, they met with no more trouble of that kind, and for this they were grateful.

Finally Terra saw the end of their journey in sight. Figaro Castle rose up out of the sand in the distance.


	5. Part 1, Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

THE CHARMING KING

Figaro Castle looked completely out of place in the middle of the desert. As Locke and Terra approached with weary Chocobo and parched throats, they saw mounted guards coming towards them. They rode on Chocobo, except for the captain, who rode a horse. They were not dressed like the tracker had been, but wore dark red uniforms and had long, thin sabers. Judging from Locke's calm demeanor Terra was assured that they were not of the Empire.

"State your name and business, sir," said the captain when they were in earshot, not in a tone of hostility but one that was firm and routine.

"Locke, son of Cole. The king is expecting me, as I'm sure you've been told."

"And her name?"

"Her name is no concern of yours," said Locke with equal firmness and with a casual air, grinning in his way. Terra found that Locke's grin did not actually denote mischievousness, though it certainly looked like it. It appeared on so many different occasions that it made his true thoughts quite unguessable.

After a tense moment, in which Locke and the captain stared hard at each other, the captain relented and said, "Very well. This way." The mounted soldiers silently escorted them back to the castle.

Soon Terra found herself being helped down by Locke, as men led their Chocobo away, and standing before the doors of the castle. It was gray and weathered, with many turrets, though not very large as castles go. Now that Terra had dismounted, she realized just how tired she felt, and how unfit she was at that moment to meet a king.

It was a mercy that Locke said, after they entered the hall, "Why don't you get something to drink and rest for a while? I'll go and talk to the king; you can come when you're ready."

At this point Locke passed Terra off to a servant woman, who led her away to another part of the castle. Terra was too exhausted from heat to be much surprised by how well Locke seemed to know his way around. She found herself in a large bedroom, though she did not remember being led there. She found herself being undressed by gentle hands, and not long after that she sunk into a soft, big bed—she was too tired even to bathe first—that instantly swallowed her into folds of oblivion.

When Terra awoke, she was still groggy, not because she had not slept well—for indeed she slept a long time, as evident by the morning light outside the window—but because the desert heat had taken its toll on her body. And perhaps she had not yet recovered from her long illness as completely as she had thought.

There was a knock at the door, but before Terra could respond it opened and a matronly maid, the same one (she recognized) that had taken care of her earlier, backed into the room with a tray in her hands. She was perhaps fifty years old, with brown hair streaked with gray and tied up tight, carrying a tray with something steaming on it. Following behind her were two younger maids, seemingly not much younger than Terra, perhaps nineteen or twenty, and carrying pitchers of steaming hot water to a bath in the middle of the room.

"Had a nice sleep, dear?" said the older maid, with a benign smile. "Tea or coffee?"

"Tea, thank you," Terra replied.

All of a sudden a burst of giggles issued from the girls pouring the bath. Terra caught part of the conversation as they left to get more water. "I don't believe you, you little hussy!" said one.

"He's such a man!" said the other. "It happened when I when I was bringing him wine. He gave me a drink and then—"

"But Edgar is such a playboy!"

"He's enamored of me!"

"He sweet-talks all the girls." The other, prettier maid looked outraged at this as they left to get more water and closed the door behind them.

After tea and cookies, Terra let herself be undressed by the old maid and she slipped into the hot bath. It was strange, Terra thought, how familiar it all seemed, as if she were used to being waited on. Another woman might have been shy to be attended thus, but Terra inhaled the steam deeply, completely relaxed.

A few minutes passed before the young maids returned with more hot water. The pretty, blond girl looked much more sullen and sulky; apparently she had been disillusioned about this Edgar of hers. As the maids poured the water and stayed to help, the blonde one struck up a conversation abruptly with Terra.

"So you've come from Narsha, have you?" she said so suddenly and curtly that Terra was taken aback.

"Yes," said Terra, not thinking it prudent to say anything more.

"With that Locke fellow?" she went on. Her friend gave her a hard look that meant to make her drop the subject. Terra merely nodded, wondering what the girl was getting at. "He's handsome, in a grungy kind of way, if you don't mind my saying so," said the maid insolently.

"We're not lovers," said Terra curtly, surprising herself by her defensiveness. This apparently was not the response the blonde maid was looking for, because a malice sprung into her face, though she immediately suppressed it.

"I suppose that means you're free, then," said the maid snidely. "I'm sure you're Edgar's type too. Apparently he likes all types."

At this the old maid snapped at her: "You wicked little girl, don't you take that tone with her!" Immediately the blonde maid threw down her sponge and stomped out of the room, bursting into tears. Her friend looked pale, but the matron simply rolled her eyes. Terra was at a loss for words. How dare that girl assume she was some love-starved slut, ready to throw herself at the first man who took interest in her! Who was this Edgar, anyway? Probably some stable boy.

When she had bathed, Terra was dressed in a fine emerald green gown and borrowed jewelry. Apparently the king had invited Locke and her to an early dinner. Terra looked at herself in the mirror. She hardly recognized herself. The dark red-haired woman in the glass looked to her like a queen or a fay of legend.

There came a hard, rapid knock at the door, which Terra guessed to be Locke. The maid went to the door, looked back at Terra with a look that seemed to say, "Let's see his face when he sees how beautiful you are!" and opened the door. Before she had done so, Terra looked at herself one more time and touched her hair, before realizing with a shock that it was Locke she wanted to look good for. When the door opened, Locke, who had been tapping his foot and looking the other way, spun around and stepped into the room.

There was a pause in his stride the moment he set eyes on her, but he promptly recovered and assumed his casual demeanor again. "You look good, kid," he said.

Terra smiled. "You look nice too, Locke."

"Yeah, I clean up nice, don't I?" he said with mock arrogance (to hide the real arrogance), turning up his collar and striking a pose in front of the mirror. Terra laughed.

Locke offered her his arm, and she took it, but stopped for a moment to fix his collar.

"Thanks, mother," he said, leading her out of the room. They passed through long halls filled with elaborate carpets and red tapestries depicting the wars of the kings in the line of Figaro. There were side chambers, halls, passages without number. The castle looked much larger inside than it had from the outside.

They reached a door guarded by strong men with spears and shields; the latter were as colorful and intricate as the tapestries. They uncrossed their spears before them and allowed them to enter the king's banquet room.

Inside there was a long, candlelit table; a gold-wrought high-backed chair at the far end, in which a man sat; and a file of eager servants standing in a line near the wall. When they entered, the king—a handsome man, tall and broad-shouldered, with long, blonde hair tied up—stood up immediately and came to greet them.

"Welcome, friends," he said, but looked only at Terra and he kissed her hand. "I am King Figaro, but please call me Edgar, my dear." And suddenly it all made sense; this was the lecherous sweet-talker the maids had been talking about. And indeed, even after this, Terra found it hard to remember that she should be on her guard, for the king was so amiable and good-natured. "You are even more beautiful than Locke described," he added.

Terra raised her eyebrows at Locke, who merely shrugged and grinned innocently. While Edgar's eyes were still taking in the woman who stood before him, Locke cleared his throat impatiently. Edgar tore himself away from her to shake Locke's hand, and said, "This way, please." With one hand he ushered them toward the table, the other on Terra's back as she passed.

There was one awkward moment when they reached the table: Locke and Edgar both tried to pull out Terra's chair for her. Edgar laughed and conceded the honor to Locke, who helped Terra into her seat with his inscrutable grin. Terra noticed how gentlemanly and protective he was all of a sudden, and she was amused. She liked the attention, although in truth she didn't have feelings for either one of them. At least not romantic feelings. And this struck her as rather odd; for here were two men who, in different ways, were very attractive.


	6. Part 1, Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

THE AMPHIBIOUS CASTLE

Dinner was a curious affair. The first part consisted of Edgar's flirtatious and suggestive remarks to Terra, with grunts and protestations from Locke, and Locke's trying to show that he knew table etiquette too, though he obviously didn't. More than once Locke had to remember to use his silverware or take his elbows off the table or put his napkin in his lap. All this amused Terra very much, which is not a testament to her vanity but to her sense of humor—for no one could deny that the two men were making asses of themselves, entering into some clandestine competition in which neither was sure of winning the prize. Indeed, there was no prize within reach, for Terra's heart was for no one.

Eventually, however, they got down to business.

"Locke tells me you both are in need of safe passage to the Sabil Mountains, the haunt of the Returners," said Edgar, sipping his wine.

"So you too are involved in this rebellion?" said Terra.

"Let's just say that it would be in Figaro's best interest if the imperial arm were shortened," said Edgar.

"Here, here!" Locke chimed in, "Figaro and all the free cities of the world!"

Edgar looked at Terra for a moment with apparent curiosity and interest. "I take it, my dear, that you are not yet certain where your allegiance lies?"

The truth was that the prospect of being discovered by the Empire was frightening. But neither was she sure she wanted to join the Returners.

Edgar didn't look the least bit worried by her silence. "Whatever decision you make is fine, my dear. Outwardly, Figaro is allied with the Empire, though even they know that the bond is weak, almost nominal. But as long as we cooperate we can expect to be left well alone. And—damn the politics!—I could never call such a beauty like yourself my enemy."

Locke choked on his wine and sputtered as he tried to regain control of his voice. Terra laughed as he pulled a napkin off the table to clean himself, sending all his silverware to the floor with a clatter.

There was still the question of Terra's value as a soldier, and why both the Returners and the Empire were so eager to have her.

"Have you heard anything about me from the Empire?" Terra asked Edgar.

"Of course. I am under the strictest orders to apprehend any woman of your remarkable description and inform general Kefka immediately."

"Doesn't look like you're cooperating," Terra said slyly. "I wonder what makes them so anxious to have me back?"

"Perhaps it's your abilities..." said Edgar absentmindedly. Locke shot him a knowing look, and Edgar looked as if he had let something slip that he shouldn't have. He set his wine glass down and smiled again at Terra.

"My abilities?" Terra asked, seizing upon the opportunity. "Which abilities?"

Edgar appeared to be quickly searching for an appropriate lie. "Uh...why of course, you're the absolute flower of the imperial army!"

"You flatter my beauty; don't insult my intelligence," said Terra. "How far could this arm cast a spear? How high do you think I could hold a shield? Would my battle cry evoke fear or laughter?"

Edgar was at a loss for words. He and Locke shared a nervous look. Edgar was spared answering this question—to Terra's great frustration—by the arrival of a messenger, who burst into the hall and hurried over to the king to whisper in his ear. Edgar's eyes widened for a moment, then, resuming his placid look, said to Locke and Terra, "If you'll excuse me, I have a matter of state to attend to." He gave a nod full of intelligence to Locke, a swift, apologetic bow to Terra, and swept from the hall with his royal cape billowing behind him. The door shut with a sonorous sound.

"Come on," said Locke, "We'd better get ready to go."

"'Go'?" asked Terra.

"Just in case," said Locke, with that infuriating grin.

Terra knew she was angrier than she had a right to be, but the revelation of her true identity, having come so close, only to be wrenched away, filled her with frustration. Nevertheless, without a word she followed Locke at a quick pace out of the hall. They did not leave by the same door they had entered, but passed through a secret corridor behind a red curtain bearing the royal insignia (a leopard and a bear rampant, back to back).

And once again, Terra found herself being led along a narrow stone passageway, this time by Locke, who had picked up a torch a short distance in. They were now climbing the spiraling staircase of a tower, going round and round, beams of sunlight coming in through tiny portals.

"Wait!" said Terra, for she stopped and looked out one of the portals, which commanded a view of the courtyard below. There she saw King Edgar talking with someone, apparently arguing, judging by their looks and the curt gestures they made as they spoke. The man arguing with Edgar—Terra could hardly believe her eyes—was dressed like a peacock or perhaps a clown. He wore bright colors, frills, and pompous, ludicrous clothes more fitting to a jester than a general. His troops were just outside the wall, perhaps a hundred mounted men in brown armor, and three very large menacing objects that Terra didn't at first comprehend. They were monstrous machines, black and shiny, at least ten feet tall, each bearing a pilot. Each had two long legs with a long talon extending out from each foot, knees bent backwards, giving the legs a wicked curve. The body was shaped like that of a rooster, with the pilot on top of what appeared to be a bowing head like that of a wolf.

"Magitek riding-armor," said Locke, who had leaned forward to look. "You would probably feel right at home on top of one of those monsters."

Terra gave him a shrewd look.

"Come on," said Locke, "We'd better keep moving. They're looking for _you_, you know."

If she was a Magitek pilot, Terra thought, that explained how she could serve in the imperial army without fighting in the ranks. But it still didn't explain the Empire's urgency. Why a general and a battalion of men to recapture a Magitek pilot, even a great one?

Locke and Terra soon came to a door, and leaving the ascent up the tower, they hurried along yet another passage, and then down another spiraling tower. Finally, they came to a stop in a small room at the bottom. On one side there was a door leading outside, on the other a door into another room.

Locke had two bags already prepared for them. "You'd better put on some traveling clothes," he said.

Terra changed in an adjacent room, donning clothes in the Figarian style, including an auburn traveling cloak that complemented her hair. She had just reentered the room when she heard the sound of explosions above.

"They're shelling the castle!" said Locke, as another round of explosions went off above them.

"What!" said Terra. "How?"

"Magitek!" said Locke scornfully.

Suddenly Edgar burst in through the door. "Follow me!" he urged them.

Outside, they ran out of a back way from the castle, keeping their heads down, as the deafening explosions and bursts of light sent showers of rubble down around them. They continued to run with their heads down until they reached a hidden bunker in the sand a good distance from the castle. Edgar pulled a long chain lying on the ground and opened a trap door. Once inside, they looked out at the assault through a narrow gap.

"What's happening?" Terra asked.

"That fool, Kefka, is bombing my castle," said Edgar, "he seems to think I'm harboring you."

"You don't seem to be as worried as you should be," said Terra.

"Wait and see, my dear."

And then something began to happen. There was a low rumbling sound and the ground was quaking, and Terra could see that the sand was moving towards the castle, as if sinking into its foundations.

"Is it an earthquake?" said Terra.

Then suddenly it looked as if the bunker was rising up out of the ground. But no—the bunker wasn't rising, the castle was sinking!

"Edgar! The castle!" she exclaimed.

"Yes!" said Edgar exultantly, "The world's first amphibious castle! A miracle of modern machinery."

In a few minutes the rumbling faded away into the earth, as the peaks of the turrets submerged beneath the uninterrupted ocean of sand. The troop of imperial soldiers turned in formation and marched off into the desert.


	7. Part 1, Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

RAIDERS

"That's impossible!" said Terra in astonishment, staring into the sand where a castle had stood a moment ago.

"Not impossible," said Edgar, with obvious delight at her reaction, "You see, my dear, in addition to being a king I am also an inventor. From my earliest youth, I have always been fascinated—some say obsessed—with wheels and gears. I read everything I could get my hands on concerning mechanics and engineering. I was even tutored for a number of years by a man named Cid, the chief mechanical engineer of the Empire, and advisor to the Emperor himself.

"Anyway, I was finally successful in inventing a method of transportation which made the size and weight of the object—however incredible—pose little difficulty. Then I thought of building a castle on this principle. And by a shaft and a track along which the castle could move through a soil with low density (sand or water), my castle could be conveyed underground. Figaro Castle is at this moment transporting itself to the desert of Kohlingen."

Even with this explanation, which was almost incomprehensible, Terra found it difficult to believe. But as she had seen it with her own eyes, she had no choice.

"Well, we'd best be going," said Edgar, still apparently coming down from his euphoria.

"But how?" said Terra, "We have no Chocobo."

"Always be prepared," said Edgar with a wink, and he opened a door hidden in the bunker to reveal three Chocobo, two of which Terra and Locke recognized as their own.

"But what about your people?" said Terra, a thought suddenly occurring to her. "How can you, a king, leave your people and go off with us like a commoner? And you don't even have your royal guard with you."

Edgar smiled. "I can assure you, my dear, that I am neither so negligent as to leave my people without a ruler (the Lord Chancellor will rule in my stead), nor as defenseless as you might think without my royal guard and the luxuries of kingship"—"That's not what I meant," Terra thought—"I can," Edgar went on, "go about incognito and—how do you say?—'rough it.'"

And so Terra and Locke resumed their journey together, with Edgar as their companion disguised in the trail-worn clothes of a common traveler. They struck a path east, going by discreet and secret ways through dunes and oases, always on the lookout for imperial troops. It was too hot and dreary a ride to talk, so discussion was limited to camps.

"What is magitek?" asked Terra one evening, remembering those machines bombing the castle.

"_Magitek _comes from _magic_ and _technology_," said Edgar. "The basic premise, my dear, is the combination of the two to make highly advanced weapons. Those riding armor chaises are the first of a line of weapons that the Empire uses to lay siege to castles and cities. With such great power, it seems only a matter of time before all the free cities of the world fall under the reign of Emperor Gestahl." As he spoke he smiled at Terra, as if he was thinking more about her than about what he was saying.

"Terra, can I talk to you for a moment?" said Locke abruptly. The pained manner in which he had said it, like one struggling to say something, reminded Terra that he had been strangely quiet lately. "Alone?" he added.

Terra looked at Edgar, who simply tended the fire as if he hadn't heard or didn't care.

"Sure," said Terra, walking off with Locke into the moonlit dunes. Locke wore his inscrutable grin, though from other things (namely his eyes) Terra could tell that he was somewhat nervous and (unlike himself) found it difficult to speak.

When they were out of earshot, Locke said, "Hey, kid; hell of an adventure, eh?"

"Yes," said Terra, waiting for him to get to the point.

"Listen," said Locke, abandoning pretense, "You're like a sister to me. But Edgar...you see...he's...well...he's a 'lady's man.' He may seem like the romantic type, but he's never taken a queen. What I mean is, he's not the settling-down type, and I would not want you to think—"

"Why does everyone seem to think I'm a silly little girl ready to throw herself at first man that comes her way!" said Terra perhaps more heatedly than she meant to.

"So you're not...?"

"No! I think Edgar's an arrogant, self-satisfied, lecherous, pompous, stuffed peacock! The only thing keeping me from giving him a piece of my mind is the fact that he's your friend and may help us get where we're going. But if he tries anything, Locke, you can be sure I'm going to introduce him to pain."

Locke's spirits seemed to rally again, and he, as if granted permission to stop pretending to be a gentleman, was himself again.

"Damn, kid, don't be too hard on him," he said with a smile. "Or there's not much hope for the rest of us."

"Then what did you ask me for!" said Terra in mock anger, and she punched him in the shoulder. Just as playfully, Locke pushed her off balance and she nearly fell into a sand hill. Soon they were laughing and wrestling, and Terra was on top of him on the ground, punching and pinching him, and throwing sand in his face as Locke guarded his head and laughed and cried for help, sputtering and spitting out sand.

"What the hell's going on!" said Edgar, suddenly appearing out of nowhere. Terra got off Locke and, still laughing, they got to their feet.

Locke spat out the sand and said merrily, "Never mind—false alarm."

Edgar smiled too, apparently trying to look delighted at the play fighting, but Terra could tell that beneath the expression Edgar must have felt that he'd suffered a defeat. Terra, of course, didn't try to explain, because if Edgar thought that she and Locke were together, Edgar wouldn't flirt with her so much. Edgar's problem, Terra thought, with a sense of pity, was that there was no playfulness in him, no childishness. Everything was serious with him, which was probably why he couldn't see the innocence of their fighting. A little innocence might do him good; maybe then he'd be able to treat a woman like a real person.

They walked back in silence. But before they reached camp, Edgar suddenly grabbed Terra's arm and gestured to them to be quiet. Terra freed herself and listened. There were sounds of movement coming from camp. Terra heard her Chocobo squawking nervously. Somehow she could tell from the sound that the Chocobo were frightened by strangers.

"Soldiers?" whispered Terra to her companions. But Edgar was still and silent, and when she looked, Locke was nowhere to be found. Soon, however, Locke reappeared out of the darkness.

"Raiders," he hissed. "Three of them." Luckily Edgar and Locke were armed, though Edgar's shield was still at the camp. "How do you want to do this?" he addressed Edgar.

Edgar suddenly smiled, and Terra could see that, besides being a sly bureaucrat, he was a valiant warrior. "I prefer an indirect approach. Locke, I doubt you'll have any trouble sneaking up behind the buffoons. Terra, darling, you stay behind me, in case they have companions in the area. I'll draw their attention."

Locke disappeared once again with uncanny stealth.

"Don't be afraid, my dear," said Edgar.

"I'm not."

Edgar drew his long broadsword, which shone silver in the moonlight, and stepped out into the firelight, with Terra behind him with a drawn short sword. "Ha! Thought you could sneak away with our things like rats, did you, villains!" Immediately two of the raiders dropped the bags they were rifling through (the third was untying the Chocobo), stood up, and drew their swords. They were ugly men, scarred, their skin baked and blistered, and with greedy, vile looks on their faces. They surveyed the man who had addressed them with (Terra thought) a little too courtly a manner for his disguise. His speech and accent perhaps betrayed a little too much.

"Oi! look what we have here!" said one mockingly. "A knight and his fairy princess."

"What a pretty flower," said another, leering at her.

"I'd like to pluck that flower," said the first, unaware that Locke was sneaking up behind him.

Then things began happening very fast. While the raider was enumerating the things he was planning to do to Terra, Locke cut his throat, and the skirmish broke out instantly. Edgar took several great strides and began fighting with one of the raiders while his companion grasped his throat, writhing on the ground, futilely fighting to keep the life from pouring out of him. Locke engaged the third with his knives and lightning-quick movements, parrying and thrusting, and watching for the opportune moment, which came soon when the raider made a foolish attack, leaving himself open. Locke's knives flashed and the man took three stabs in the chest before he even hit the ground.

Edgar fought with skill and power, wielding his great sword with surprising speed and agility (considering its size). His foe also was soon lying at his feet.

Then, one after another, the raiders' eyes went black, and from each of their mouths a tiny blue light, no larger than a firefly, came out and drifted slowly up into the starry sky, where they disappeared. Their spirits had passed out of their bodies with their expiring breaths.

Terra hardly had time to watch this mysterious departure, for without warning someone had grabbed her from behind, momentarily lifting her up, and putting a knife to her throat.

"Hello, poppet!" said the man with nauseating breath as she struggled to be free. "Ah, ah, ah!" said the man to Edgar and Locke, who had taken a step closer. Locke wore his grin even now, but Terra had learned that it was his eyes that showed his true feelings—and in them now she saw an unspeakable wrath. Edgar, too, looked like murder.


	8. Part 1, Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

AN ACCIDENTAL DISCOVERY

Terra continued to wriggle, though feebly, terribly afraid and inwardly calling out to her friends to save her. The raider tightened his grip around her and started to back away, as Locke and Edgar stood by the fire in powerless wrath. The man kissed her on the cheek wetly. His breath was foul and his face was grimy and prickly. Locke swore at him in protest.

Just then—thank God—Terra heard a terrible _squilch_ and the raider screamed in agony and released her. She turned around to see the man writhing on the ground, screaming and holding his hand over his eye socket. Terra's Chocobo was standing beside her with blood on its beak.

The man scrambled to his feet to flee just as a knife whistled past Terra and sunk into his forehead. The tiny blue star of his spirit left his body before it hit the ground. Suddenly disembodied, the light remained suspended in the air, as if surprised by the speed with which its body crumpled into a heap on the ground like a suit, before flitting off and fading into the sky. Nevertheless, Locke had flung himself upon the corpse in a moment and pummeled it in rage.

Horrified, Terra yelled, "Stop!" Surprisingly, the effect was instantaneous. Locke froze where he kneeled over the fallen raider. Terra pulled him off the body and embraced him. "It's okay, Locke. I'm fine." There were tears in his eyes when he pulled away.

Both Edgar and Terra stood there, at a loss for words concerning Locke's behavior. Terra found that she was crying too, though Locke was now trying to pass it off as if nothing unusual had happened. _What horrors from your past continue to torment your soul, Locke?_ she thought.

That night Terra again dreamed of the frozen Esper, only this time there was more. She saw the faces of her fellow soldiers before they were shocked by a bright flash and reduced to ashes inside their magitek armor—their souls so suddenly naked, bereft of flesh, drifting like fireflies up into the sky. Terra woke with her heart pounding.

At breakfast, she asked about the blue lights.

"Some say they are the souls of people," said Locke, pondering with his hand on his chin and his head cocked to one side. "Others say that they only represent souls."

"What do you mean?" asked Terra.

"Well, if they _are_ souls, then when they go out there's nothing left of them. That's the end. But if they only _represent_ souls, then when they go out here, they go somewhere else."

"Where?"

"Who knows?" said Locke. "The Esper world, maybe. Or maybe we come back as wasps, so we can sting the Emperor on the ass."

Terra laughed and Edgar rolled his eyes. "What do you really think? Is death the end?" said Terra.

"I don't know," said Locke. "I hope death isn't the end, but only if I go somewhere I want to be. If it's lonely and dark, I think I'd rather be nowhere at all."

"What do you think, Edgar?" said Terra.

"Me? I don't know. I'm a practical man. Religion is too high for me."

"Come on, Ed," Locke teased. "Don't tell me you wouldn't want to come back as a corset or something." They had a laugh at Edgar's expense, but they got a smile out of him nonetheless.

After a moment, Terra asked, "Do animals have them?"

"No, not usually," said Locke, again assuming his thinking pose, in earnestness or jest she couldn't tell.

"What do you mean 'not _usually_'?" asked Edgar.

"Well...on our way to Figaro I shot a boar, and it gave up the spark."

Edgar looked curious, but Terra had suddenly lost her appetite.

They made their way by Chocobo over the desert and onto a grassy plain before a range of low mountains. "We'll have to go through the cave to the south," said Locke, as they approached on weary birds.

"A cave?"

"Yeah, no choice, kid," said Locke, grinning, "Some nasty things in there, but it's the quickest way to South Figaro."

"And Kefka is sure to take the long way around the mountains," Edgar added, "marching his troops along the south coast or going by ship to South Figaro, if indeed he's going that way. He probably thinks we were in the castle, and is searching for that, which will take him to Kohlingen far to the northwest—that is, exactly the opposite direction we're going. That would be lucky."

Terra hoped for that with all her heart. She had an unaccountable dread of meeting the man with the wicked laugh and brightly colored jester's clothing. But she had even more immediate things to dread. There were, indeed, nasty things in that long underground cave (as she was soon to learn). It was a four-hour walk in windless darkness. They dragged their frightened Chocobo by the reins and held their lamps aloft. It was an echoing, drippy, dank sort of place, with high arching ceilings and jagged rocks. There were sudden drops and bottomless chasms, and an eerie sense of watchful eyes in the shadows. Just then Terra stopped abruptly.

"I can't move my legs!" said Terra, terrified, rooted to the spot as if by some foreign will. All the muscles in her legs had contracted, and remained tight and unmovable. What was more, the numbness was creeping up her body.

"Blearies!" said Locke, knives out. And indeed, even before he had spoken, Terra saw the green glow of numberless orbs—eyes—which belonged to creatures that for the present avoided venturing out into the lamplight. Edgar's arm had frozen drawing his sword; his other was dead at his side, though he still had the use of his legs. The Chocobo were screeching loudly, but they too were paralyzed. Terra's bird had fallen to the ground, where she squawked pitifully. Locke alone seemed not to have been affected, unless his usual quickness had been sapped; for (Terra now saw) he drooped as if he were tired and his limbs heavy. Terra tried to grab her bow, but the paralysis had reached her arms, and the only part of her that she could still move was her head.

Then the attack came. With a cry, Terra's Chocobo was overwhelmed with black creatures. She had seen it happen over her shoulder. All around them tiny creatures scurried into the light. They were knee-high, limbless, and seemed to be all head. Each of them was covered in black hair and had a single green eye in the middle. They glided over the ground, and the bottommost hairs moved like the legs of a centipede.

Edgar's left hand had frozen with his lamp in it, and he was trying to frighten them off with the light and threatening to kick them with his heavy boots, while Locke sluggishly circled their little group twirling his knives with his fingers. The two men stayed close to Terra to protect her.

When the numbness reached her head, Terra's eyes began to water and her vision blurred. Her mind began to grow still and peaceful and somehow cold; it was the sensation one experiences just before one passes out.

Now the blearies were swarming, Terra could still see as she struggled to keep the monsters from clouding her vision. Edgar was kicking them, Locke stabbing and slashing with diminished speed. But the monsters kept coming. In the darkness Terra heard the horrible sound of her Chocobo's dying cries, and the ripping sounds of the blearies eating her.

Terra's fear reached fever pitch, and with a tremendous effort of will she threw off the paralysis binding her body. Her hands moved of their own accord, as when a soldier's hands remember their warcraft. Terra drew her bow and let her arrow fly into the glowing green eye of an oncoming bleary. The arrow seemed to be propelled by a greater force than her bow could produce, striking the creature like a bolt of red lightning. Instantly the bleary burst into flames. The fire spread, setting the monsters around it ablaze and forming a circle around Terra and her friends.

The circle burned as bright and high as Terra's anger. The blearies were incinerated, or else fled barking deep into the caves. But when Terra saw that her companions were oppressed by the heat, she relented and the flames died down and went out, leaving the smoking carcasses of the blearies and her lost Chocobo. It was silent and dark now except for the feeble light of the lamps, to which their eyes again had to adjust. The horrible stench of burnt flesh polluted the air.

By the dim light Terra could see her friends' astonished faces. They exchanged a look between them which confused her, for it seemed to be a knowing look, though they were still afraid. She was no less surprised by what she had done, for there was now no mistaking it, and several previously unexplained occurrences held new meaning for her.

Locke was first to say what everyone was thinking. "Magic!" he said with considerable excitement, but this exclamation left a long and uncertain silence after it. A flood of questions rushed into her head. How had she done that? Had she been born with this ability or was it learned? Was this why the Empire was so anxious to have her on their side? Yes, of course! But did the Returners know?

Terra wished someone would say something; she didn't know what to think about it herself, and she had no idea what their reactions might be.

"Somebody say something!" Terra said suddenly, quite to her own surprise. And she looked dEsperately at them for a response.

After a pause, Edgar, with an uncertain and even cautious look on his face, began to speak. "Well, my dear, this is quite a surprise. Forgive me for my silence, but you see, you have taken us by surprise. Where...if I may ask...I mean...how...if you had said something before...?" he trailed off, then looked to Locke imploringly. Though his words were steady and smooth, his eyes betrayed apprehension and unease. Locke's unreadable grin was infuriating.

"I didn't know!" said Terra apologetically, not knowing why it was suddenly so important to have their confidence. "I promise I didn't know! It just happened. I didn't know I was going to do it. Please..." She wanted to impress upon them that she had not kept any secrets; so she was casting about with her words to see if they still trusted her, or feared her, or what.

"Terra," said Locke reassuringly, "It's okay. I shouldn't have been so surprised. It's just that actually _seeing_ you do magic is a whole different thing than just hearing about it, and—"

"WHAT!" screamed Terra. "You knew? And you didn't tell me?" She could have slapped him. Then she moved forward and the two men took a step back. At this, Terra's heart broke, and she collapsed into a kneeling position and started sobbing into her hands, feeling now more than ever alone and utterly deserted.

But Locke came and put his hand on her back. "Hey, kid, what's the matter? So you can use magic...so what? It's nothing to be ashamed of. I think it's fantastic. I always thought of you as my little red-headed firecracker—but I guess you're a cannon! Well, that's even better!"

"Easy...for you...to say," said Terra between sobs, "You're not a witch!"

Now Edgar was beside her, too. "No, my dear," he said coaxingly, and now when she looked at his face she knew he was being honest. "You're not a witch. A witch is a wicked, power-hungry woman who bargains with evil spirits to do evil things. She haunts graveyards, abducts children, performs blood rituals, and is a general menace. You, my dear, are nothing like that. It's natural for you to use magic. Why, you're no more a witch than I am when I draw my sword or build a machine."

"Then what am I?" she said.

There was no answer.


	9. Part 1, Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

MISERY, MISERY

"When were you two bastards going to tell me?" said Terra, looking by lamplight at the charred remains of the monsters on the floor of the great cavern. "When we reached the Returners' hideout? Is that why your little terrorist group wants to use me? How am I supposed to trust you now?"

Locke whistled in mock perplexity and said, "That's quite a list of accusations, kid. Why don't you just relax? I'll tell you all about it." They were all sitting on the floor with the lamps between them. "When I found you in the mountains of Narsha, I knew you were the so-called 'imperial witch' that everybody was talking about. You and two of your fellow magitek knights had obviously tried to attack or capture the frozen Esper—which was stupid as hell, of course, because a frozen god is still a god. Very dangerous. I didn't dare look the Esper in the eye or get any closer than I had to. Anyway, I found three destroyed magitek tanks, two ash heaps (what was left of your comrades), and you. You'd been thrown out of your armor and lay knocked-out in knee-deep snow for who-knows-how-long. But you were alive—I couldn't believe it!—and you didn't have a scratch on you.

"So I took you to Arvis. He guessed, too, that you must be the one they called Terra, the witch in magitek armor, sent on military campaigns that required...uh…firepower...and that fed the Emperor's obsession with magic.

"Well, kid, to tell you the truth, before I got acquainted with your charming personality"—here Locke winked at her—"I thought it best to kill you before you woke up. But Arvis had a different idea. He took it upon himself to nurse you back to health. He said you'd probably been indoctrinated by the Empire when you were very young, and he wanted to see if he could get you to see things from the Returners' point of view. Because if he could, you'd be a powerful ally."

A sudden thought struck Terra. "Arvis...his burns...when I had the fever...did I?" she said with horror.

"You couldn't help it," said Locke. "You were raving. He knew the risks. He continued to take care of you even after you burned him."

Guilt settled in the bottom of Terra's stomach. "Poor Arvis," she said to herself. "I'm so sorry."

Another thing occurred to her. "If you both already knew about my abilities," said Terra, "why were you so shocked just now? Or was that part of the act?"

"It is one thing to _hear_ about your...abilities," said Edgar. "It is quite another to _see_ them. You'll must forgive us, my dear. You were very impressive."

"And scary?" she asked.

"Perhaps a little frightening," said Edgar thoughtfully. "But only at first, my dear."

"Please!" said Locke in mock dismissiveness. "You may be hot stuff, babe; but I can still kick your ass." Locke boxed the air in front of him. They laughed.

"Oh you can, can you?" Terra retorted. "You weren't so tough with sand in your mouth."

So once again things returned to normal between them. Or at least for the moment. Locke and Terra laughed and joked, and Edgar was infected by their joviality, but deep in Terra's heart a sense of isolation was born, which, I'm sorry to say, grew from this moment on. As they came out the other end of the cave and traveled several days towards South Figaro, Locke and Edgar walking in turns in order to let Terra ride their Chocobo, an invisible barrier grew up in Terra's mind between her and her friends. It was made worse by the fact that neither of them seemed to notice it. Whatever she was, she was not exactly human, or at least not like them. For no human was born with the abilities Terra possessed.

And just as luck would have it, the moment Terra that learned of her abilities was the moment she lost them. For indeed, she had used magic before only as a sort of reflex in moments of great fear or strain. She thought with uneasiness how little control she had had over the circle of fire, and how badly it might have gone for her friends. They could have been killed. If all this wasn't bad enough, Terra's nightmares returned. Only now, it was she herself trapped in ice and screaming (her voice the screech of the winged, clawed Esper), watching her friends, Locke and Edgar, burning alive in their imperial armor.

Needless to say, her sleep was troubled and unrestful. She woke up wearier and wearier each morning until finally she fell ill. They could travel very little with Terra sick, and it was slow going. Eleven days' ride to South Figaro turned to thirteen, then fifteen. As sorry as her friends were for her, their lives were in danger, and they required speed, so, on the fifteenth day since they left the cave, they made Terra as comfortable as they could on a small litter which Edgar had constructed. It even had wheels and an apparatus that absorbed some of the shock as it dragged behind their Chocobo. They had to walk beside their birds because they had to go very slow for Terra, who was a pitiful sight indeed. She was pale and taciturn and looked utterly miserable, with her small self bound tightly to the litter.

The bumps caused her pain. She had fever, nausea, and a terrible cough. And she was exhausted, feeling as feeble as a ninety-year-old woman. There was tremendous pressure in her head, which soon threatened to give way to tremendous pain. She was listless, feeling and thinking nothing, but completely preoccupied with enduring her seemingly endless suffering on that rattling trap. What made it worse was the fact that time seemed to move at a snail's pace. She was terribly conscious of each moment of her illness. What made it still worse was that the pain spread from her body to her heart. The pain, quite against her will, made her melancholy and filled her with hopelessness and despair.

And then, as if fate and nature had conspired against her, by noon of that same interminable day, dark clouds rolled in and it began to rain. Now Terra was in real danger, and her friends frantically threw their cloaks and any available extra clothing over her, and Edgar and Locke walked on either side of the litter holding Edgar's great shield over her. Despite all their efforts, she got wet. Her clothes were soaked, and she shivered and her teeth chattered. Her forehead was burning, her body was feeble and sapped for strength, she had a splitting headache and difficulty drawing breath. She was so miserable she even started to cry. Alarmed, Locke and Edgar spurred the Chocobo on faster (which was hard on Terra, and made her feel, if possible, worse) towards a copse of trees, where, thankfully, they found shelter under a huge rock.

Immediately Locke and Edgar set to work building a fire, but the wood was far too damp, and after many frustrated attempts, they succeeded only in getting into a fight with each other. This added guilt to Terra's suffering, since they were fighting because of her. But she was powerless to stop them, for by now she was too weak even to speak.

"No, damn it, you're doing it wrong!" said Locke frantically.

"No, this is the best way," said Edgar, equally alarmed and working tirelessly to kindle a flame.

"You'll smother it before it has a chance to get going!"

"No, log cabin is the best structure for—"

"Well, while you're building your damn log cabin, WE'RE LOSING HER!"

"I can't do this if you're yelling at me!" said Edgar.

"THEN LET ME DO IT!"

"FINE, GODDAMN IT! GO AHEAD!" shouted Edgar. "THIS NEVER WOULD HAVE HAPPENED IF YOU HADN'T INSISTED ON MAKING HER TRAVEL WHEN SHE'S SICK!"

That remark cut Locke to the heart, and Terra too. Locke struck the flint so vigorously it looked like a stream of sparks was pouring out of it, but to no avail. Finally, throwing up his hands, Locke turned to Terra, while Edgar resumed his frenzied attempts to start a fire. "Terra," he said gently, feeling her forehead, which was on fire, her face ash gray, and brushing the hair out of her eyes. "Terra, we need you to start the fire. Can you do it?" Terra roused a little, turned her head (she was lying on her back) to look at the pile of wet brush and twigs they had collected. She wanted to please Locke even more than she wanted a fire, for she felt terrible for making them so frightened (however justified their fear was, for she was vaguely aware of the peril she was in). She tried to concentrate, but her head was empty and blank, and her migraine was now excruciating, and she soon forgot what she was supposed to be doing. "Terra…please…try!" Locke pled, clearly frightened out of his wits. The cold was overcoming her. Terra was dying, but she didn't have the energy even to fear death. Death was a release from pain. Nevertheless, she made one last effort, furrowing her brow and silently willing the brush to ignite, but the exertion only ended in a fit of coughing and wheezing.

Finally, in desperation, Locke stripped off his wet clothes and quickly undressed Terra down to her undergarment, which were still dry. He lay beside her and wrapped both of them up as best he could. It might have been Terra's chill, but Locke's body certainly seemed to produce a lot of heat.

"Please, God, don't take _her_ from me too!" Locke whispered, trying to maintain control of his voice. At this, Terra was sadder than I can possibly put down in words. She was so sick that she would have wanted to just die and get it over with, were it not for the small measure of comfort in Locke's warm embrace. Like an infant, she nuzzled his chest and cried herself to sleep.


	10. Part 1, Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

SOUTH FIGARO

Well might Terra have thought she was dead when she awoke, for she awoke to strange surroundings. Her fever had broken and she had mostly recovered, though she still had a cough and a sore throat. She sat up in a bed that was not her own, in a room she had never seen, and she was alone. It was clean and white and in every way a perfectly ordinary bedroom. Bright sunlight was streaming in through an open window, and the birds were singing.

She was clothed in a white nightgown. She had been cleaned and her hair washed.

"Is this a dream or am I dead?" said Terra to herself.

"Neither, dear," said an old woman which Terra had not noticed. She'd been sitting in a rocking chair in the shadows, knitting. "But you gave us quit a scare," added the woman, rocking her creaky chair. Terra was not afraid of the old woman, for she had a kind, simple face.

"Where am I?" asked Terra.

"The South Figaro Main Street Inn. Those nice young men who brought you here said you got sick on a ship from Nikeah. Do you live there? I hear it's cold this time of year. Can't stand ships myself; I always get sick. Do you get seasick a lot? I do. Poor thing, they had to call the doctor and everything. I hate doctors; don't trust 'em. They're all a bunch of quacks, if you ask me. You're name is Elle, right? Those handsome young men who brought you here said your name was Elle, if I remember correctly (and I have a memory like an elephant). They said you come from Nikeah. Terribly cold up north this time of year—don't you think?—no wonder you caught a chill. They didn't tell me your last name…"

At this point the old woman stopped her monologue and leaned forward in her chair, wide-eyed, waiting for an answer.

"Uh, Cole. Elle Cole."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, dear. I knew an Elle once, a silly girl. Ran off with an imperial captain, if I remember correctly—"

"Uh, ma'am," said Terra tentatively, not wanting to offend her, but not wanting to listen to another speech.

"Oh, feel free to interrupt me, dear. I'm a chatty-cathy (as they say)—though my name is Betty. Otherwise I'll talk your ear off, talk till you're blue in the face. Why, I once talked for—"

"Well," interrupted Terra. "I was wondering where those two men who brought me here are, and where my clothes are?"

"Your clothes are warshed and folded—I warshed and folded 'em myself—and tucked into that drawer by your bed. By the way, is you Ms. or Mrs. Cole, if you don't mind my askin'? Are you the same Elle that done run off with that captain, you naughty girl?" Betty wagged an affectionate finger at Terra. "Ah, love! I was young once, if you can believe that."

"And the two men, ma'am?"

"Ah, yes, the two men. What would the captain say if he knew you were running around with two handsome young men? Trying to make him jealous, are ya? Best be careful playing that game, missy; two can play at—"

"Thanks for everything you've done, Betty, but I really have to go now," said Terra, as she opened the bedside drawer and found, to her annoyance, only the emerald green gown and shoes she'd worn at Edgar's castle.

"Go?" said Betty, looking suddenly disappointed. "The captain told me himself (and my memory is perfect) not to let you out of the house till he and his friend came back. His friend's handsome too, if you don't mind my saying so. It was a captain, wasn't it? Might'a been a lieutenant…"

Terra put on the green dress and, not seeing any of her things, tried vainly to take leave of the old woman, who was not listening, but rocking back and forth, her mouth and her knitting fingers moving with equal speed and continuity. The last thing Terra heard her say before she closed the door was, "Don't know why they tell me to make 'em stay put. These young-uns never stay put nor do what their told. Nobody listens to an old woman…" and then she trailed off into a sulky silence. "Poor woman," Terra thought, "she's just lonely."

She thought she might find Locke and Edgar in the lobby, but the lobby was empty, except for a man rubbing the counter with a rag, who stopped when he saw her and grinned from ear to ear. Terra suddenly felt very overdressed. An intermittent cough, however, took away from her elegance.

"Uh, excuse me," said Terra, "I came here with two men, one with long blonde hair tied back in a pony tail, the other with messy brown hair. Do you know where they went?" But the man only grinned stupidly and continued to rub down the counter. "Never mind."

Terra walked outside into the street. It was a large, animated city, with many people going to and fro, some walking chocobo or horses or driving chocobo-drawn carriages, most on foot. The street was long and lined with many different kinds of buildings, some big, some small, some elegant, some dingy. The atmosphere was one of liveliness and busy energy.

Just then, on the other side of the street, she saw Edgar walking by. It took a second to recognize him, because he had cut his hair short and changed his clothes. His new clothes made him look bigger and more muscular than before, but she was sure it was him.

"Edgar!" Terra called, waving at him, but she immediately wished she hadn't. If she was likely to be recognized anywhere, it would be here in a busy city. Edgar looked around, saw her—of that she was certain—but seemed not to recognize her, and kept walking.

Confused and irritated, she nevertheless dared not shout, but instead waited until she could cross the road, by which time Edgar was just turning a corner at the end of the street. "Edgar, damn it, don't be an ass," she thought. "This had better not be about Locke keeping me warm. Oh, you're so immature! Get back here!"

But when she turned the corner, he was nowhere to be found. She picked up her dress and rushed down this street and that, and looked in the windows of several shops, until she was completely turned around.

She turned to two men to ask for directions back to the inn, but immediately she paled and turned back the other way, pretending to look into a shop window—for right behind her were two uniformed soldiers. She could see them in the reflection of the shop window and hear what they were saying.

"What did you say her name was?" said one.

"Terra. You know, the witch. Damn, Vicks, how long have we been in the service together?" said the other.

"Give me a break, Wedge, I didn't know her name. Everybody just calls her _the Witch_," said Vicks.

Wedge told Vicks her description and they continued to survey the street. Terra walked quickly but inconspicuously past them, and with heightened senses felt their eyes on her. One of them wolf-whistled, but she kept walking. She had been saved by their dopiness, and by the fact that their description had been of a woman in a traveling cloak or some otherwise common clothing. They weren't looking for women dressed as for a ball. Perhaps this was Locke and Edgar's intention.

But where the hell were they? She now regretted leaving the inn; it had been foolish.

She was increasingly aware of the number of imperial soldiers in South Figaro, and she had to get off the street quickly before one of them spotted her. But just when Terra thought she recognized the street on which the inn was located, she heard the last thing she wanted to hear: a female voice cry, "Terra!"

Terra froze and searched for the source of the voice. A carriage stopped in the street and three over-powdered young women in brightly colored dresses jumped out and ran towards her. "Terra, is it really you?" said the tallest one, in a red dress.

Improvising, for she was sure to be spotted by a soldier if too much attention was drawn to her, she decided to act naturally.

"Yes, it's me. How are you?"

"Don't you how-are-you me! You come back from the dead, and all you can say is 'how are you'?"

"I told you she wasn't dead. I heard that she was captured by terrorists!" said the one in the teal dress.

"I heard that she got sick of the army and ran away," said the one in the blue dress.

"Well," said Terra, trying to figure out how to get off the street, "As you can see, here I am. I'm cold, can we share a carriage?"

"Of course!" they said. "Look at you: you've got goose bumps. And we have so much to talk about!" Teal Dress put a shawl around her bare shoulders and the giggly girls hopped back in the carriage.

"My inn is just up the street here," said Terra. "Driver, can you stop at the Main Street Inn?"

"Driver, you'll do no such thing!" said Red Dress. "Terra, you simply _must_ come to the party with us. You're already dressed, after all. Where were you going? And where have you been all this time?"

Conveniently, Terra had a fit of coughing at that moment, and they had already forgotten their question by the time she was done. Luckily for her, they weren't the listening type.

"Listen, I'm feeling under the weather. Why don't I go out with you tomorrow night?"

"Just one drink! Please, just one, Terra! You have to!" pled Teal and Blue Dresses.

"All right," Terra conceded, watching her inn pass by with a sigh. "But just one."


	11. Part 1, Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THE PRECARIOUS PARTY

"Let's play a game," said Terra to the three girls, trying her best to be as silly as they. "Let's not tell anyone our real names. Let's introduce ourselves—_and introduce each other—_with made-up names!"

"Okay!" agreed the giggly girls.

Terra tapped her finger on her cheek, cocked her head, and said, "I know. You can call me Elle Cole. What will your names be?" While the girls consulted amongst themselves, Terra nervously looked around the room. It was a large, high-ceilinged room with many tables and chairs, packed full with a crowd of men and women, soldiers, dancers, singers, and servers. There was a constant roar of talk and laughter, eating and drinking, musicians and dancers singing and dancing on stage, and little pockets of debauchery in which men were getting drunk and women were laughing and flirting and throwing off all vestiges of modesty.

They were sitting at a table which was, Terra felt, uncomfortably exposed to view, drinking wine (which didn't help Terra's cough), while the girls made up their pseudonyms. One unforeseen consequence was that the girls thought that introducing each other was part of the game, and they were now even more excited about socializing and "being seen." They insisted on it, though all Terra wanted was to sit unnoticed. They took her reluctance as shyness or glumness, and so felt it incumbent upon themselves to cheer her up by (of course) introducing her to as many people as possible.

"This is Ter—I mean, _Elle_," said the girl in the blue dress with a wink that infuriated Terra.

"How do you do, Elle?" said the imperial officer to whom she had been introduced, kissing her hand like a gentleman before introducing himself by his name and rank. They were standing in a crowd so dense that it was almost shoulder-to-shoulder.

"Oh!" squealed Teal Dress, "There's General Leo! He's so hot. I'm so jealous of you, Ter—_Elle_."

Terra gave her a withering look, passing it off as annoyance that they were spoiling the game. Terra cursed their stupidity. How hard was it to remember a name?

"Why jealous?" said Terra.

"Because he's in love with you, silly! I don't understand why you two never...but you were always such a prude. I'm going to call him over here."

Terra grabbed Teal's arm just as she was about to do it. At the same time the man she had been referring to, General Leo, the man who more than anyone must _not_ see her, turned in her direction. Instantly Terra turned away and coughed into her hand.

"Ow! Terra, let go! You're hurting my arm!" Teal cried.

She cringed and let go as her real name was shouted. But thankfully, no one heard it over the constant roar, and (when she dared to glance over her shoulder) General Leo had not seen her. Terra gently took Teal aside and whispered in her ear:

"I'm sorry I hurt your arm, but you can't say my real name, remember? It's no fun if you don't follow the rules."

Teal rubbed her arm and whimpered, "I'm sorry, okay!"

"And we can't call General Leo over here, you silly girl. He knows my real name. It'd spoil everything!"

"I don't like this game anymore," Teal whined.

Terra matched her whininess and stomped her foot like an obstinate child (inwardly ashamed of herself).

"It's my game and I want to play it!" Terra sulked. "You're no fun. You're not a wet blanket, are you?" That did it. Teal seemed to take up the game again with renewed vigor, though not without (Terra didn't fail to notice) some hidden resentment. But what did that matter?

Terra had another coughing fit, this time a real one, just as the other girls and the officer to whom she had been introduced before (whose name was Pierre), found them again.

"That's a nasty cough," said Pierre magnanimously, as was his manner. "Can I get you a glass of water?"

"Yes, thank you." She smiled as best she could. She was growing more nervous all the time, for she had no idea which of these people she used to know. "Pierre, I'll go with you," Terra said, slipping her arm into his and giving him a flirtatious smile, much to the delight of Red, Teal, and Blue, who shot her approving looks. So Terra went off with Pierre, who looked honored to escort her. He held his head up importantly, with an air of self-confidence which was as much to his credit as to his discredit. Here was a man, Terra thought, who took pride in his rank, though not to the point of haughtiness.

"Let's sit down here; a waiter can bring me water," Terra said, indicating an empty table in a shadowy corner, perfect for seeing the rest of the room without being seen herself, and perfect, incidentally, for two to have a romantic tête-à-tête. And that was exactly what Pierre assumed this seemingly impetuous withdrawal from the party to be.

While Pierre talked and Terra listened distractedly, she looked over his shoulder at the party, and felt a wave of relief at no longer needing to be constantly on the alert. For the first time in a long time, weary of the constant burden of secrecy, she wondered whether or not it was all worth it, whether in fact in would not be better simply to give herself up. This might have seemed foolish to one who could look on with detachment, but Terra, who for almost as long as she could remember was on the run from a daunting and invisible force, and whose lot had consisted of nothing but physical and psychological strain, was soothing her mental exhaustion with hopes of freedom—a freedom, I'm sorry to say, which was still a long way off.

What perhaps contributed most to her thoughts was a feeling of abandonment by Locke and Edgar and, strangely, Arvis, who had been taken out of her life so abruptly, and with whom she felt that her safe, happy life had been only a fleeting breath. She now almost wished that he had never told her her name, or that she were deathly ill so that Arvis could nurse her back to health with his gentle, paternal hands and his beautifully scarred face. Terra might have gotten teary-eyed at this.

Another thing that made Terra wonder whether or not she should go back to the Empire was General Leo, whom she watched over Pierre's shoulder. It's amazing what you can learn about a person by watching him from a distance. Terra observed by the way that he carried himself that General Leo was a confident, strong man but not egotistical like so many others; by the way that he introduced himself to women, that he was a gentleman without ulterior motives; by the way he looked at men of various ranks and quality of clothing, that he treated all men equally; and by the way he occasionally glanced towards the door that his heart was somewhere else—or with _someone _else, perhaps with her. After all, didn't that girl say that General Leo was in love with her? Was he thinking of her at this very moment, wondering whether she was dead or (in his mind, worse) the prisoner of the Returners? She felt her own heart go out to him, with pity, though not necessarily with love.

She was brought back from her reverie by Pierre. "I can see that your mind is somewhere else, Ms. Cole. Or is it Mrs. Cole?" he said magnanimously, as if he had put his finger on some mystery, and in his generosity was ready to forgive her from the depths of his heart for belonging to someone else.

"Uh, Mrs. Cole," said Terra. "And I'm terribly sorry if I gave you the wrong impression..."

"Quite all right," said Pierre, though unable to hide some trace of disappointment. An awkward silence followed in which both of them looked at the table. When she looked up again, she saw over his shoulder something that made her heart quail and jump into her throat.

Teal, white as a ghost, was being questioned by two uniformed soldiers. She pointed in Terra's direction.

Pierre, fairly drunk already, but seeming to drink away the present awkwardness, took a long drink of his wine and said, "I'm confused. Is it Terra or Elle? Your friend said both. That reminds me, have you heard of this Witch everyone is talking about?"

"It's...uh..." said Terra distractedly, seeing the two soldiers leave the astonished and frightened girls and make their way through the crowd towards her, though they didn't seem to have seen her yet.

Now was the moment of decision. Stay and be caught or flee? Both paths led to equally uncertain futures.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that," said Pierre. "Is it Terra or Elle?"

"Exactly," Terra thought frantically, "is it Terra or Elle? I must make a choice...once for all...right now!"


	12. Part 1, Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

ESCAPE

"It's Elle," said Terra firmly. "My name is Elle Cole." The soldiers had almost reached her now. "Listen," she said, fixing him with the most seductive look she could muster, "What do you say you and I get out of here?"

That was the last thing Pierre was expecting. "Well, I...," he stammered.

_No time!_ "Come on," she said, grabbing his hand and getting up from the table, which was (thankfully) concealed in the shadow of a curtain. She looked around. There was a door behind the curtain! Madly she laughed and walked quickly out the door with Pierre in tow. Once out the door, she kissed his mouth to keep up the facade, and just as impetuously dashed off again, leading him by the hand. She needed to get away from the party as quickly as possible and take the most discreet alleys and back roads, and only then would she worry about how to get rid of the now hopeful Pierre.

The night air was bitter cold, and most of the streets abandoned, and Pierre wrapped his coat around her. He was a little too drunk for her brisk pace, for he said, "What's the hurry, my dear? I'll just call us a carriage."

"No! Wait...yes! Let's get a carriage," she said. If Pierre was suspicious that "Elle" insisted on waiting in the alley while he went for a carriage, he didn't show it. Perhaps he was too drunk.

Pierre staggered out into the street and hailed a carriage, and in a few moments she heard the soft tread of a Chocobo-drawn carriage and the objecting squawks of the birds. Terra hurried out of the alley and jumped into the covered carriage, which was much warmer than the open ones that went about during the day. It was easy to hide inside, because there were only small windows on either side and one looking out at the driver.

"The Main Street Inn," Terra told the driver, fending off Pierre's drunken advances. "Not till we get to my place," she said coquettishly, while pushing away his lips and his hands. He apparently thought it was just another game, and so it was a gentle struggle all the way to Main Street to keep Pierre to himself. She felt sorry that she had to play such a cruel trick on him, but neither did she want his hands all over her.

It was another stroke of good luck that Terra happened to look out the window as they were coming up upon the inn.

"Driver!" Terra cried. "Keep going!"

"What's that ma'am?" he replied. "I thought you said—"

"Just keep going!" she insisted, and he obeyed, as she sunk down below the window. The inn was swarming with imperial soldiers! "Those damn girls must have told them where I was staying!" Terra thought with infinite frustration. She had seen soldiers standing guard outside and all the lights on inside. No doubt they were searching the rooms. "I hope they don't bother that sweet, crazy old lady. What if Locke and Edgar are there! They might be arrested! Tortured! Killed! Just like poor Arvis. Damn it! Why did I ever get in the carriage with those stupid girls!"

What she didn't have time to notice was the abrupt cessation of Pierre's advances. But now when she looked at him she saw a sobering realization in his face.

"It's you," he said. "It's you they're looking for. You're the woman Terra, the Witch!"

Their faces showed equal astonishment. Terra had expected that at that realization he would subdue her or call for soldiers, but he simply stared at her with fear. Perhaps he was afraid that if he tried anything he might explode or that she might turn him into a lizard, both of which, she reflected, were entirely within the realm of possibility. But he did nothing, and the fear became something like shame. He blushed red.

"Please," he pled with her. "I didn't know it was you. If you don't mind, could we keep this whole thing between ourselves? I'd prefer it if King Edgar didn't hear about this, my dear. You see, he is rather fond of you and..."

"What?" said Terra in amazement, "You're a Returner?"

"Shhh! Not so loud," he whispered. "Not a Returner _per se_. Driver,"—he said in a louder voice—"take us to number seven, South Street."

"But you're an officer," said Terra, "an imperial officer."

"Yes, well, not everyone in the military joined by choice. I was taken in a draft and stationed here in South Figaro. I am from Mobliz. I was contacted by the Returners shortly after I enlisted, and have since been a kind of spy for them." He said the word _spy_ with a lofty and proud air. "So I had been wrong about him,"thought Terra. "He was not proud of his rank, he was proud that he's a spy."

"They'll be so glad that you're all right," said Pierre. "If you don't mind my saying so, it was a bit foolish of you to leave the inn and go to a party. What if you'd been spotted? You should have thought of that," he added magnanimously. "Of course, you _were_ spotted. Those soldiers were waiting for _you_."

"So Locke and Edgar weren't there?"

"No, my dear," he said, proud to be in the possession of useful knowledge. "Once they realized you'd left, they set out to look for you. But _I_ insisted that the king stay at my house and not go out, because Kefka is looking for him too now. He knows that Edgar had been harboring you. But Locke was free to scour the city. I would have joined in the search, my dear, but it would have been suspicious of me—being an important man and an officer—to be absent from the party.

"And here we are," said Pierre, as the driver reined in the Chocobo. Pierre paid the driver, and Terra darted through the cold night air towards the door, which opened before she reached it, to reveal Edgar's surprised face.

Once inside, they both asked the same question: "What happened?"

Edgar spoke first: "Locke is still out looking for you. He should check in again in about an hour. He's watching the hotel to see if you try to go back there. There are soldiers there. Someone must have seen you."

"Yes, I know," said Terra. "I thought...Wait a minute. You didn't cut your hair."

The impertinence of this remark confused him. "Of course I didn't cut my hair, my dear. But that's beside the point. What were you doing leaving the inn, and in your state?"

"I thought I saw you across the street, only you didn't seem to recognize me. You just kept walking. I followed you—or him—but I got lost."

"What did he look like?" said Edgar with new urgency.

"He looked like you, only his hair was very short and he was a little bigger...you know...in the muscles." She didn't know how to say that delicately, for Edgar was vain and certainly did not look like he wanted for strength. The difference there was slight.

But Edgar did not seem concerned about that. He had gone white as a sheet.

When at last he found his voice again, he stammered, "So...you...followed _him_ and you got lost. Then what happened?" She told him about the girls and the party, delicately passing over the escapade with Pierre and the exact details which led up to his discovery of her identity. For this, she could tell, Pierre was grateful, for he had long since come in and the three of them were sitting in chairs before a fire.

"This is going to make it much more difficult to leave the city, my dear, which we must do soon—tonight, in fact, before they can organize a search," said Edgar.

"I can use my influence to confuse their efforts and buy you some time," said Pierre. "They will want to speak with me next, anyway, since I was the last person to be seen with Terra. I will go to them so they don't come to my house, but I strongly caution you"—this was, to her annoyance, directed towards Terra—"against leaving the house until I get back."

Pierre donned his coat and walked out majestically, though still a little drunkenly. She could tell he was proud to be of use.

When they were alone by the fire, Terra did not press the point about the man who looked like Edgar, for she seemed to have accidentally stumbled upon some profound mystery which he was not yet ready to share with her. Instead she asked,

"Did you get all our things out before you left the inn?"

"Yes, we brought them with us."

"Good. Where are my clothes? And why did you leave me just the dress?"

The question brought Edgar out the daze which he had been in since the mention of his look-alike. Being brought back to himself again, he said, "What? Oh, yes. Well, my dear"—here the old charm was turned on again—"I thought we might have dinner together in the dining room. You see, both of us being fugitives, we were supposed to be cooped up all day together while Locke met with our contact, Pierre, and sent a message on ahead to Banon that we were on our way. And I thought we might spend a quiet evening together over a nice dinner and a bottle of wine, since we have had so little peace and quiet and so few civilized luxuries since this adventure began."

"So you were in the inn the whole time?"

"Yes, well, until the old housemaid—a little absentminded, it seems—came and told me you'd left. She seemed to think I was an imperial captain or something. I was in my room reading at the time."

Terra laughed. It was the kind of laughter that comes from relief from a large ordeal that could easily have been avoided. "So if she hadn't gotten confused, none of this would have happened?"

"No," said Edgar, laughing now too, "I suppose not." And they shared a laugh together.


	13. Part 1, Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

ANOTHER ESCAPE

Locke took a long time in coming back, which left Edgar and Terra free to while away the time talking by the fireplace in Pierre's living room. Terra had gone and changed into warmer clothes, including the dark red cloak which complemented her hair. Her beauty and the romantic atmosphere of the fireplace and the fact that this was the first time that they had ever been alone together made Edgar amorous. And Terra was so relieved that her recent ordeal was over that she didn't have the energy to keep the conversation in check; so inevitably they fell to talking about their adventures, and Edgar slyly made reference to two occasions on which Locke had saved her life: the first being when the raider that had tried to carry her off and the second being when he warmed her with his own body heat when they couldn't build a fire.

"Yes...so?" said Terra, not knowing where he was going with this.

"Yes, well, you see, my dear," said Edgar, "Locke has a very complicated past. Certain experiences he has had make him very protective of the women in his life."

"And?" she said impatiently.

"And, well, I wouldn't want you to think...that is, I want to prepare you for the fact that he may not actually return any...uh...romantic feelings you may have for him. I say this as your friend."

"Yes, of course you do," said Terra ironically. "It wasn't me he was saving, right? It was Rachel, whoever she might have been. Well, Edgar, I've been meaning to tell you: I don't care—"

Just then Locke burst through the front door. He came to a stop when he saw them, and looked from one to the other in silence. Just then Terra felt suddenly guilty. She realized how this must look to him: she had been sitting comfortably (with Edgar, of all people) while Locke had been scouring the earth for her, worried sick. The look on his face was, of course, his deceptive grin, but in his eyes Terra could see anger and a sense of betrayal. She was at a loss for words.

"Uh, Locke...I—" she started to say.

But he cut her off. "Pierre has been arrested. They're coming to search the house. We have to go," he said coldly.

"Locke, listen…," said Terra as the three of them walked at a quick pace out the back door and into a dark bystreet, carrying nothing so as not to draw attention to themselves.

"Quiet," said Locke. "We don't have time to talk." He led them with determination through the back streets of South Figaro, threading his way through uncrowded byways and benighted alleys, of which he seemed to have an intimate knowledge. Although Terra was sorry that she had made him worry and frustrated by his overreaction, she was frankly relieved that they had found each other again. It felt good to be once again among those who loved her and who knew the way. It put all thoughts of her lingering illness aside.

With Locke in the lead, the three travelers made quick progress away from Pierre's house, which was fortunate, because just before they had turned the first corner and lost sight of it, Terra looked back and saw in the windows a growing number of lights moving about and heard grating male voices barking indistinct orders. Now, however, their pace slowed, for the number of patrols and sentries was rapidly increasing. Locke often had to stop them for several minutes at a time before crossing a lighted street, waiting for a detachment of soldiers to pass by or for a sentry to look the other way. It was slow going, but gradually, with Locke's instinctive stealth, they made their way to the east side of South Figaro.

"Where are we going?" Terra whispered, waiting for the signal to move while Locke looked around a corner into a semi-deserted street.

"We have to get out of the city," he replied. "We're going to a house on the east wall. There's an old woman there who'll help us."

"A Returner?" she asked, more out of a desire to talk to him than curiosity.

"A sympathizer," Locke answered shortly. All this time he never once looked at her, which was partly understandable, given that he had to be constantly on the lookout. Nevertheless it caused Terra pain.

Terra's relief at being back among her friends was tempered by something akin to misery, a dull rhythmic throb of the heart which punctuated her happiness with a growing feeling of separation from them—indeed, from the whole human race. Ever since the discovery of her magical abilities this separation had been growing, and now, though she was with them, it was as if they had not fully been returned to her. She remembered with fondness and a little sadness how she and Locke had wrestled in the sand, but felt that that would now be impossible, and that any attempt at a repetition would be hollow and empty of the happinessthat they'd shared.

By this time the party had reached the east side of the city, and Locke had led them into a dark and narrow alley with high walls on either side. There Locke checked them at a small door, like a servant's door, in the wall. It appeared to be a back way into a large house, the eastward side of which terminated at the giant stone wall which surrounded the city. Locke rapped lightly on the door with strange rhythm. A secret knock, Terra thought.

Almost immediately the door opened. It opened quietly into a darkness broken only by the dimmed lantern of a bent and shrunken figure, which appeared to Terra to be a woman. The woman had opened the door wide enough for them to slip in, which they did, and all the while not a word was spoken. The door closed gently behind them, and they followed the bent figure across a chill and damp room. There was a smell of must and fermentation. The penurious gleam of the lantern made out the outline of enormous casks of wine, like the barrels of giants, with tiny taps in them.

The bent woman led them up out of the cellar by way of a winding servant-stair. It seemed to Terra—for there were no windows—that they climbed about half a dozen storeys before they reached a landing, and half a dozen more by the time they reached a second, where to Terra's relief they passed through a narrow corridor into an attic. Here the old woman unveiled her lantern and set it on a table strewn with neglected trinkets and knickknacks, lit a taper, and went about the cramped room lighting hanging wall lamps. There were paths through the dusty and long disused piles of junk and furniture. Freestanding dressers and wardrobes, full-length mirrors, wicker baskets big enough to sit in, faded paintings, and smaller objects too many to name—all these things were crammed into the slouching room. Cobwebs were woven across the rafters in the ceiling, which slanted down on one side of the attic. On the outward side Terra now perceived an aperture, a small window to the outside which, judging from its imperfect shape, had probably not been an original feature of the house.

When the old woman finished lighting the lamps, she came over and spoke to them, but only in whispers.

Terra judged from her dress that the woman was the owner, not a servant, of the house, and that she must have sent her servants home or to another part of the house. All the while she whispered instructions to them, the old woman fixed her eyes on Edgar, not leeringly but intently. She spoke of secret paths outside the city and the distant Kolts Mountains to the northeast and of other things which they would have to pass through if they were to reach the Returners' Hideout. After she finished, she smiled at Edgar and said, "You look just like him, you know." Immediately Edgar fell silent and grave.

"Thank you, Mrs. Duncan, for all your help," said Locke. But there still remained the problem of escaping from South Figaro. Terra had seen no gate in the east wall before they entered Mrs. Duncan's house. She shivered as the cold night air blew in through the aperture in the attic wall, which she now noticed had a device attached to the top of it. It was a pulley with a length of thick rope running through it, one end tied to a giant basket.

"Why don't you go first, hon'," said Mrs. Duncan to Terra encouragingly. "These strong young men will lower you down."

"Lower me down where?" said Terra, suddenly alarmed.

"Hush, now. Keep your voice down. Don't worry, honey; it's quite safe."

Terra approached the opening and looked down at least sixty feet to the ground, which in the darkness looked even longer. She recoiled from the edge with a sudden fear that the wind would suck her out.

"Are you sure this is safe?" said Terra, looking suspiciously at the wicker basket, which now seemed more flimsy than before.

"Safer than the point of an imperial spear," said Locke, and Terra did not like his tone. There was little kindness in his voice. Terra glared at him in momentary anger, then almost out of defiance lifted the lid of the basket, climbed in, sat down in the spacious hollow, and lowered the lid over head—all in one deft movement. She was still a little cold, but was too angry at Locke to ask for a coat.

Terra could see little through the slats of the basket, only the shadows of her friends moving in the light. She heard the men come to the opening and agree that the coast was clear. Suddenly she felt the basket slide towards the window. Her heart leapt into her throat. But she didn't make a sound; she wouldn't give Locke the satisfaction.

Then she heard the squeaking sound of the pulley above her as they pulled till there was no slack in the rope. Terra heard a sickening sound of the harness tightening. There was a moment's pause, and then with a grunt from the men she was swept off the ground. She had a sensation of flying, as the basket swung back and forth in the gusty night wind, which had no mercy on her already shivering body—the slatted basket offered little protection. Now she really wished she had asked for a something to cover her meager traveling cloak. But even more than the cold, Terra worried about the basket and the height. She knew she was being lowered because the squeaking of the pulley soon faded and was drowned out by the wind whistling viciously through the slats. She swayed back and forth perilously over the invisible abyss. The basket kept bumping into the wall in its descent, swinging and swaying nauseously. It seemed to Terra to take forever for her to reach the ground; every time she thought it must be near she just kept on gently falling and bumping into the wall. By this time she was shivering like a leaf.

Then without warning Terra felt a jarring jolt. The basket had stopped. She was on the ground outside the walls of South Figaro.


	14. Part 1, Chapter 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

A MISHAP

Terra climbed out of the basket. Above her at an astonishing height she could see a small glimmer of light coming from the roof of Mrs. Duncan's house, inconspicuous unless someone were looking for it. She gave the rope a few tugs as a signal, then made for a copse of trees a short distance from the wall. The unburdened basket lifted off the ground, swinging more violently than before.

Terra rubbed her arms and look along the wall right and left to where the darkness impeded her vision and the wall bent out of sight. There was no one.

After a long while the basket reached the ground a second time, and Terra was disappointed to see Edgar come out. She had hoped that it would be Locke, for she desperately wanted to talk to him. Two impulses were striving inside her: to ask for his forgiveness and to punch him. But it was Edgar who came out and joined her in the trees.

"I'm cold," said Terra shortly.

"Have my coat, my dear," said Edgar, happy to oblige. He laid his coat over her shoulders, which required him to wrap his arm around her, which he did not immediately remove.

"Just the coat, thanks," said Terra, shrugging off his arm.

"Of course," he said, with a tone that said he'd registered the coldness in her voice. Terra felt bad, realizing that she was taking out her frustration on Edgar.

"Thank you, Edgar," she said in nicer tone. They watched the basket rise slowly to the roof again. "How is Locke going to get down? Mrs. Duncan can't manage his weight all by herself, can she?"

"She is an infinitely capable woman, my dear. Her husband, Master Duncan, is a great martial artist. There is more strength and control in those old sinews than you can guess."

Terra, remembering Mrs. Duncan's comment to Edgar ("You look just like him") wondered about the connection between him and his look-alike and the Duncans. But she sensed it was a subject on which he was still unwilling to speak. How could he ever expect her to love him, when he was always ready to take everything from a woman but never give anything of himself?

Now the basket was being lowered for the third time. It was over halfway down when Edgar said, "Don't move; someone's coming." Indeed, a figure emerged from the darkness and was walking along the wall. Terra prayed it would be a merchant or townsman, but soon she recognized the familiar shape of an imperial soldier with spear in hand. He did not appear to have seen the basket yet, but if he kept on at that pace and the basket kept falling, he was sure to see it. Unfortunately, they could make no signal to Mrs. Duncan without the soldier seeing it.

"Edgar, where is your sword?" she whispered.

"With our other things, which we had to stow outside the city."

"Do you have any weapons on you?"

"I'm afraid not, my dear," said Edgar, equally alarmed.

"Well, Locke still has his knives on him, doesn't he?"

"Yes, but I don't know if he'd be a match for a trained spearman by himself, especially if he starts jabbing that basket before Locke has a chance to—"

"Damn!" said Terra, "He's seen it!" She was terrified for Locke. He couldn't die before they were reconciled! The soldier ran to the spot where the basket would land, poised to strike.

"My dear, can't _you_ do anything? I mean, if ever we were in need of your special talents…"

"Shut up! Let me think!" Terra concentrated as hard as she could, but fear distracted her. She stared at the soldier hard enough to bore a hole in him and bent all her will towards him. But she didn't know what to do. "Burn!" she hissed. "Sleep! Um…Go away!" But she only made herself feel ridiculous. Nature did not bend to her will. Before, her magic had sort of cast itself, as if by reflex. But now that she was aware of her abilities and called upon them, they failed her.

Locke was about ten feet above the raised spear now.

"Oh, God!" Terra whispered.

Eight feet.

"Edgar, I…_can't_!"

Six.

The soldier's arm drew back.

Four.

"Hey there!" cried Edgar, jumping out into the open. "I've seen the girl! I know where she is!"

The soldier was startled for a moment, to which momentary hesitation Locke owed his life. The basket hit the ground next to the soldier and Locke sprang out like a tiger. Locke had the advantage of proximity, for the spearman needed some distance from his opponent.

What happened next was too fast for Terra to see with any certainty. All she knew was that, after a quick exchange, the soldier lay dead at Locke's feet, his soul faintly floating up into the night. Immediately she and Edgar ran to meet him.

"Oh God, I was so scared, Locke!" Terra cried. Without inhibition she threw her arms around him, but in doing so unintentionally knocked him to the ground. He did not hug her back. Moreover, from on top of him she could see that his face was ashen gray. Alarmed, she released him and found her hands covered in blood.

"Locke!" cried Terra, as he lay dazed and bleeding, his eyes searching. With all her might she willed Locke to be healed, but with no effect. He bled profusely as Edgar searched his wound.

"Stop it; he'll bleed to death!" said Terra.

"The wound is deep," said Edgar. "I might be able to stop the bleeding, but if we don't get him to a surgeon, he won't live through the night."

So saying, Edgar tore a long strip of clothe off his shirt and tied it around Locke mid-torso so tightly that he gave a cry of pain. Terra refrained from criticizing Edgar's work.

Now they were in trouble. They couldn't carry him back into South Figaro without being caught, and they didn't know of any other place nearby where they'd be likely to find any leechcraft. Furthermore, they had to do something with the dead soldier's body. They could put it in the basket, but they didn't know if Mrs. Duncan could dispose of it, and the consequences would be fatal for her if it were found. They couldn't just leave it there either, because if it were found beneath Mrs. Duncan's window, she would still be implicated. If it were found soon, any lingering doubt that they had come this way would be destroyed. And it was not certain that they could spare the time to bury the body, without having to bury a second.

Needless to say, a bit of magic would have immediately remedied the situation, but all the wishing in the world would not suffice: Terra was powerless. I'm afraid she cried hard and was very frightened, holding Locke's head as Edgar dragged the soldier's body off into the trees. It would certainly be found, but perhaps they would buy themselves some time.

What made matters worse for Terra was that Locke was hurt while he and she were not on good terms. It embittered the already bitter reality that Locke was dying.

Though she didn't know if he could understand her, Terra spoke to him: "I'm sorry that I left the inn and made you worry so much. Please forgive me. I know you were only angry because you care about me." She cradled his head and brushed his scraggly hair out of his face, which was now wet with sweat and her tears.

"We have to try to move him," said Edgar, returning. As gently as he could manage, though in Terra's opinion not nearly gently enough, Edgar hoisted Locke up over his shoulder and together they entered the woods.

They walked for a long time in silence. With every tedious step, Terra was terrified lest she see a blue light escape from Locke's mouth. At last she couldn't take it anymore, and so she looked up through the trees at the heavens, but the sight of the stars filled her with dread. Angered by their taunting resemblance to departed spirits, she silently prayed, "If there are any gods with love for man, show us the way!" The stars twinkled brightly as before, but still their heavy trek went on, and it seemed as if it would go on indefinitely till Locke died or they reached the end of the world.

But then something wonderful happened; a voice called to them from somewhere nearby: "Is someone there?"

"Should we answer?" whispered Terra.

"It might be an enemy," said Edgar.

"But it might be a friend," she replied. "I think we have to risk it."

"Agreed," said Edgar, then called out in a louder voice, "We're here!"

A moment later a hooded figure appeared which worried Terra a little, until Edgar whispered to her, "A hermit. I should think we have nothing to fear from him."


	15. Part 1, Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

THE HERMIT

Locke lay like a dead man at full length on the hermit's table, lighted by a fire in the fireplace. The hermit wore a brown habit with a frilly rope for a belt and was bald except for a crown of gray. He worked tirelessly at dressing the wound in Locke's ribs and sewing it up. He was a kind man, Terra surmised.

After the hermit did what he could for him, giving him medicine and rum to help him sleep, Locke fell into a deep slumber.

"You can call me Brother Francis, my friends," said the hermit.

"I'm Sabin," said Edgar, "And this is—"

"Elle," said Terra.

Brother Francis laughed. "That's all right. You don't have to tell me your names. That way I won't have to lie if I'm questioned."

"Forgive us, Brother Francis," said Terra. "We have had to be suspicious."

"There's nothing to forgive, child. May God deal with me, be it ever so severely, if I give my allegiance to the Empire, or betray guests in need of sanctuary."

Edgar and Terra spoke together and decided that the hermit could be trusted.

"Thank you, Father, for your hospitality," said Edgar. "We wonder if it wouldn't be too much of a burden on you to put us up for the night?"

"Of course," said Brother Francis with a benign smile. "You will stay until your friend is healed. Then I will give you provisions—such as I have—and swift Chocobo, for I wager that the adventure God has sent you requires speed."

"You're too kind, Father," said Edgar, bowing (for he had risen to his feet). "But we have birds and supplies already. I must retrieve them now. May I borrow your spade?"

"Certainly," replied the hermit.

Terra guessed that the spade was for the dead soldier, for if they were going to stay so close to the city for any amount of time, they would need to bury him.

Over the next several days, Terra spent a tolerable—indeed, a peaceful time in the hermit's little house. She was comforted that she and her friends slept in cool, underground caves reached by a trap door in the floor, and by the hermit's vigilant night watches. As far as Terra knew, Brother Francis never slept. At night he would pray and keep watch for enemies and change Locke's bandages, and when Terra awoke he was already up, making breakfast for them. She had never seen such discipline before. If she had lived with him long enough, she might have known the time of day by his chores and prayers.

Locke recovered faster than expected, which was fortunate, because the party was getting nervous with every passing day. They spent more time underground now, cleaned up after themselves after every meal so that it didn't look like Brother Francis had company, and kept the extra Chocobo hidden.

"How is it that you've managed to be overlooked for so long?" Locke said to the hermit when he was well enough to talk.

"Most imperial soldiers are foreigners from Vector on the Southern Continent," said Brother Francis, "and the Figaroäns resent their presence here. Few stumble upon my little house by accident; you have to know where to look."

One day, when the hermit was in his vegetable garden and Edgar was outside smoking his pipe, Terra and Locke had a chance to talk. Locke could sit up without difficulty now, though it still caused him pain. He would soon be ready to ride. But he had not yet gained back his characteristic vivacity.

"Did you hear what I said…back at the wall?" said Terra.

"Yeah," said Locke. "Hey look, kid, don't worry about it. I was just being a woman."

"'A woman'? What the hell's that supposed to mean!"

"You know what I mean," said Locke, answering her mock anger with his mischievous grin. He gently pushed her cheek with his fist. In return Terra punched him in the arm, on the wound-side. Locke howled in pain.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry!" said Terra, but in the end they both dissolved into laughter.

At last it was time to go.

"Godspeed you on your way," said the hermit in blessing, petting the heads of the Chocobo of the three mounted travelers. Brother Francis stopped at Terra's bird and held its reins, suddenly fixing her with an intense (though not alarming) look. "Take courage, my child. Blessed are you above all women, Death-wedded One, you who must suffer death for the world, which is Death's rightful bride." Terra was at a loss for words, so she kept silent, but she kept his words in her heart long afterwards. They did not seem to be the words of a madman, but those of a man with knowledge she knew nothing about.

They were eager to set off, for they had lost a few weeks in South Figaro due to Terra's illness and Locke's injury. Even the Chocobo seemed restless, chomping their bits and preening themselves. They waved goodbye and steered the birds' heads north. They had packed as heavily as they could without having to take a fourth bird for baggage. When their supplies ran out, they would have to resort to hunting their food, for they expected to pass through no more towns or cities on their journey to the Returners' Hideout in the Sabil Mountains. "But before we get there," said Locke, "we have to climb the pass of Mount Kolts to the northeast. After that it is a straight shot north through the valley to Mount Sabil."

They were more wary than ever now, and anticipated spies on every road. They expected every open space to be watched and every narrow pass to be an ambush. So they made their way through dense and difficult forests, hot and muggy—which made everyone irritable.

Terra tied up her hair and rolled up her sleeves and pant legs, until her legs got scratched brushing against thorn bushes and the sun burnt her fair skin. It was better to be hot, she decided. Unfortunately not a breath of wind broke through the trees to cool her face.

Moreover, the travelers had to deal with hordes of mosquitoes and biting flies, which attacked their Chocobo. They had to be diligent in swatting the insects, lest the latter spook the birds. Moreover, the path they cut through the trees was often blocked by cliff walls and sudden drops and unfordable rivers, frustrating their progress.

Days and weeks of this shortened everyone's temper. Terra was snappy and Locke was taciturn. Even Edgar hardly managed to contain his annoyance, which manifested itself in his disagreements with Locke about the quickest way around some unforeseen obstacle. Each would yell at the other, Terra would yell at them, then one would yell at her, the other yell at him, then all would fall silent. After a few minutes there would be a round of apologies, and then some time later the whole thing would start up again. It surprised Terra how much hot weather and miserable conditions had an effect on the general mood, even though they all knew it was no reason to be short with one another.

It seemed to Terra to be weeks before the peaks of Mt. Kolts came into view. The party had been walking their Chocobo when they chanced upon a freshwater stream, clear as glass, tumbling down its stony bed. After a refreshing drink which raised everyone's spirit, Terra with renewed vigor climbed a steep hill to try to get the lay of the land. Standing against the trunk of the solitary tree at the top, she saw for miles in every direction: miles of rolling green treetops, and in the distance, gray and hazy, Mt. Kolts.

Terra turned and saw Edgar coming up the hill. He had taken his shirt off earlier due to the heat, and no doubt thought this gave him an advantage over Locke, who was not as muscular and broad-shouldered (but by no means scrawny) as he, and was reluctant to take his shirt off around Terra, no matter the necessity. But in fact, Edgar had no advantage, for none was to be had.

The wind had risen and blew unhindered at the top of the hill. Terra let it blow her hair back; she liked this feeling. It was exhilarating.

By this time Edgar had reached the top. He now stood beside her on the other side of the tree. She didn't mind his presence—indeed, when he wasn't trying to seduce her it was even enjoyable, but she suspected this silence was part of some new tack.

But it seemed that her fears were unfounded. Perhaps he had finally given up. He just went on looking out towards Mt. Kolts, deep in thought. Finally he spoke:

"I'm thinking of going on ahead, my dear. The fewer in our company the less likely we are to be caught. Besides, if I reach Banon, I can inform him of your route and arrange an armed escort. I trust that you wouldn't be opposed to going alone with Locke?"

Terra suspected there was a bit of sulkiness and an admission of defeat in this, though there seemed also to be something else on his mind, an increasing gravity that she had noticed since the sighting of his mysterious twin. It was with this gravity that he stared at Mt. Kolts. Nevertheless, she feared that she had perhaps been too strong with him, and that he had taken her rejection of his sexual advances as a rejection of him altogether.

"Don't go, Edgar," said Terra, "we need your skill and your sword."

"Just my sword?" said Edgar with a smile.

"And your friendship."

"Just my friendship?"

"Just your friendship."

Edgar laughed and together they turned and descended the hill.


	16. Part 1, Chapter 16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

MOUNT KOLTS

It was high summer when the travelers began the cruel ascent of Mount Kolts. From the time they set out from the hermit's house to their arrival at the foot of that now seldom-traveled road, almost a month passed. More than three weeks of long rides and longer marches.

Terra looked upon Mount Kolts with awe and fear. From a distance it had almost looked unreal, like a painting, but as they approached on weary birds it took on the character of hard fact. They must overcome this mountain or die in the attempt. They could not turn back now, with the Empire on their heels; it was a miracle they had gotten this far.

A sense of dread had been growing in Terra's heart over the last week, when they first entered the wide valley between two gigantic mountain ranges. Since that time the valley had grown narrower and narrower, so that Terra wondered whether the sides might not finally come to a point and crush them.

Terra could see that the forest reached a long way up Mount Kolts, which, before the clouds blocked her view, turned white with snow. It had an uninviting look about it for those who were not sure they could prevail.

"Don't worry, kid," said Locke, who had apparently noticed her daunted look, "His bark is bigger than his bite."

"Easy for you to say," said Terra. "You must be used to the climb, living in Narsha."

"We'll take it slow, my dear," said Edgar. "It is either this or go back to South Figaro and take a ship to Nikeah. And you can be sure Kefka is watching the ports."

"I know," said Terra, a little annoyed with the direction the conversation had taken. She did not want them to exaggerate her weakness. Now that she thought about it, it was not merely the tremendous physical effort that she dreaded. There was some ominous and indescribable quality about the mountain, perhaps some faint association with the mountains on which she had encountered the Esper, perhaps something else. Mount Kolts seemed to speak to her with the voice of command and thunder, a pent up immensity that she would eventually have to come to terms with—or be reconciled to? Terra could not put her feeling into words.

And so the party started up that road which time had almost forgotten, walking their Chocobo. At times there was no indication that there was a road at all, or none that Terra could see. But Locke was more confident now than when they had gone by untrodden routes through the forest. Either he saw a path that Terra could not or he was leading them by memory.

For the first hour's march the slope was gentle and kind, though Terra's calves began to burn a little. The sun was high and a light breeze kept her from sweating. Then suddenly it grew steep, and Terra and the others made the climb easier by pulling themselves up by the roots of trees, which on this incline were partly exposed. Now their legs really burned, and the party took its first break. They had already reached an impressive height, and the forest far below looked like a bed of broccoli.

The exertion had taken Terra's mind off her apprehension, unless it had merely been a warning to weed out those who were unworthy of the mighty Kolts, or, more likely, because she no longer had the full view of it. She still had no view of the summit due to the wreath of clouds which clung to the sides, and consequently no idea of Mount Kolts' true height.

Terra leaned against the slope with her feet on a tree which shot out from the earth a few feet before suddenly curving upwards. Now that she had time to think, her dread of the mountain started to come back to her. It was filling up inside her with alarming heaviness. But how could she come to terms with something unknown? What exactly was it she must be reconciled _to_? This momentous feeling was unaccountable, and Terra felt that she must find some way of distracting herself, or else she didn't know what would happen. Thankfully they soon took up the climb again.

When they resumed the hike (a little reluctantly), they found that the grade of the incline soon leveled off again, or nearly, and for a time the going was tolerable. Nevertheless, the ascent was dreadfully taxing for everyone but the Chocobo, which, being birds, were more surefooted and agile and altogether more suited to the elevation. But Terra, Locke, and Edgar started taking shorter marches and longer rests until sunset, which brought with it a sudden chilliness and a cold wind that descended the mountain.

Luckily, Locke had spotted a goat just before the light failed and shot it. Later, wrapped in a thick fur, sitting a couple of feet downslope from the campfire over which the goat was cooking, Terra really noticed the cold. They made camp that night on a level place, like a broad platform, beneath a precipice that offered some shelter from the descending chill.

That night Terra tried to go to sleep as quickly as she could, but as everyone knows, trying to get to sleep is the surest way to keep it away. Her dread kept her awake (to her misery), and when she finally dropped off to sleep—sure enough—her nightmare returned. Once more she was caught in the terrible gaze of the frozen Esper.

Dawn found them considerably sore, and Terra especially was tired, not having slept well. Nevertheless she couldn't help but take in the magnificence of the morning. From this altitude, the world lay like a green clay model, and all sense of height was lost in the stillness of that seeming miniature. Only the slope beneath her gave Terra a sense of peril. It was an awesome feeling.

The day seemed longer on Mount Kolts: dawn came sooner, and the sun lingered longer before hiding his face from them.

Now they were climbing among forests tipped with snow. The snow fell slowly in large flakes. Terra was surprised how quickly the temperature changed during the course of the day. When the sun was out it was warm, but if by chance it went behind a cloud, the air seemed to drop by ten degrees. The difference was even greater between night and day.

Then, all at once, the trees fell away. They had passed the timberline, beyond which there was little on the mountain other than falling snow and snow fallen, and a few scattered shrubs. It was about this time that Terra began to get short-winded. Locke and Edgar had not yet begun to feel the effects of high altitude, and Terra didn't want to mention it. But if she pushed herself too hard she would get lightheaded, and so she frequently had to stop to catch her breath.

Their food was almost gone, though they had water aplenty by melting snow. They had a meager lunch that day, which didn't bother Terra much, for she was nauseous and had no appetite.

Now Edgar looked sick, though he didn't complain of anything. Terra noticed that he talked more slowly and looked tired, occasionally opening his eyes and shaking his head, as if trying to throw off the stupor of sleep. Only Locke seemed not to be affected. But he showed his awareness of his friends' condition and slowed his pace, though not in an obvious and proud way. Terra saw his considerateness as a bit of a change in him, and wondered if she'd had anything to do with it.

By mid afternoon they reached the clouds, and the alpine slope grew foggy and the air moist. They could see no further than a few feet in front of them, which was a frightening thing on a mountain: a misstep could be fatal. But Locke never lost his way.

Finally they emerged from the fog into air that was at once clear and dry and pure. For the first time, Terra got a view of the summit, which appeared almost as high above the clouds as the clouds were above the ground. It was a daunting sight, though Terra knew that the pass would not lead them to the top.

"The hostel is just up ahead," said Locke. "We can probably afford to rest there till morning." Terra was delighted to hear it. If she'd been told about a hostel, she had forgotten. Now the prospect of food and shelter filled her with relief. At the mention of it, Edgar's expression turned to one of apprehension.

"Are you okay, Edgar?" said Terra.

"Fine," said Edgar. When he finally looked at her, he added, "Here: take this, my dear," and handed her his handkerchief, indicating that it was for her nose. She wiped her nose and found blood on the rag. She was a little embarrassed. Terra looked at Edgar again and wondered why the hostel made him uneasy.


	17. Part 1, Chapter 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

THE HOSTEL

Terra, Locke, and Edgar rounded a huge rock and found a house. It stood out on the plateau, a high, flat valley between Mount Kolts and the neighboring mountains. This was the only solace to weary travelers on the pass. The house was, like the land on which it stood, broad and flat, humble (though not unkempt) and unadorned. It had a garden where the inhabitants grew what food they could.

Terra had been watching Edgar as they approached the hostel. His manner grew stiff and rigid, and in spite of himself he had the look of one troubled by something he would not speak of. Terra wondered if she would at last come to the conclusion of the mystery of his twin.

But before that Terra looked forward to a good bath and a long rest. Mount Kolts had exhausted her. Her dread of the mountain abated upon the first sign of people.

When they reached the porch, a boy in unusual clothes came out to greet them. He wore a white uniform. It consisted of a long, buttonless shirt tied with a white belt with two black stripes at the ends, and loose-fitting white pants. He wore nothing on his feet.

"Welcome, friends," said the boy politely, bowing. When he raised his head and saw Edgar, there was a look of sudden recognition, which was replaced by confusion and then understanding, as if he had remembered something. No words passed between them, but Terra saw that the young man's look had not been lost on Edgar. Edgar looked annoyed.

"You must be tired," continued the boy, chattering excitedly. "I'll stable your Chocobo and bring in your things. The Senpai will show you to your rooms. Dinner is in an hour, but you can go to the kitchen at any time." With that, the boy bowed and led their birds away.

When they entered they found themselves in a broad, low-ceilinged room. Yellowish-orange light came in through the translucent walls, which were little more than screens supported by square lattices. Dozens of young men in white uniforms were training under the instruction of an elderly man. They were lined up rank and file, punching and kicking the air in a steady rhythm, turning in unison, and sounding off at the end of each blow.

The tension coming from Edgar was almost tangible. He appeared to be looking for someone, someone he hoped not to see.

"What kind of hostel is this?" asked Terra.

"It's a dojo," said Edgar, "a school for martial artists. That," indicating the old man, "is Master Duncan."

"The husband of the woman who helped us in South Figaro?"

"Yes."

Terra wanted to ask him how he knew so much, but didn't want to add to his pain. Locke too appeared unusually subdued.

At that moment Master Duncan gave a command to what appeared to be his oldest student in the front row. This student bowed to Master Duncan and broke rank, jogging over to meet them.

"Welcome," he said. This one was more subtle in his reaction to Edgar. "I am Senpai Soren. Allow me to show you to your rooms." He led them down a narrow hall. "We do not have many women stay here, so you can have your own room, Ma'am. But you two," indicating Locke and Edgar, "can stay in the dormitory, if you don't object to sharing a room with the Kohai."

There was no objection.

The Senpai first showed them the dormitory, a large room filled with double-beds, one stacked upon the other, each with a short ladder to the top bunk. The room smelled like body odor. Locke and Edgar dropped their packs on a couple of unclaimed beds.

Next the Senpai showed them to Terra's room, a smaller, nicer-smelling room with a bed and a bathtub. It was quite clean, much to her satisfaction. There was a plank leaning against the wall by the door. The door and the wall beside had catches into which the plank could be slid.

"Will I need that?" Terra whispered to Edgar.

"No, Ma'am," answered the Senpai, politely but firmly, "you won't need to bar the door. The dojo is well defended, and you have nothing to fear from the Kohai. We live by the strictest discipline. Hospitality is second only to our own physical and moral training. The plank is there only as a courtesy."

Terra soon got the chance to see the discipline of martial artists' lifestyle in action. The party had decided to wait for dinner, giving Terra time to bathe—hot water was brought to Terra's bath in buckets by the boys—and take a short nap. She slept better than she had the night before, for her dread was lost in the bustle and the noise of human society, and woke, though she'd only slept a short time, better rested. She awoke to Locke's knocking on the door, informing her that it was time for dinner. She dressed and went out, following Locke down the hallway to the large training room, which now held long tables and benches. There the boys—or Kohai—were setting the tables.

She arrived just in time to see the end of a beating. The Senpai was standing behind a boy on his knees, lashing his bare back with a rod. With each blow the boy cried out the count. It was soon over. The boy, who Terra now recognized as the one who took their Chocobo, put his shirt back on and approached her with tears in his eyes, followed by the Senpai.

"I'm sorry for stealing from you and for impure thoughts," said the boy, handing her an undergarment belonging to her.

Terra was taken aback. "You're forgiven," she said after she understood what had happened. The boy seemed to receive her forgiveness with gladness, and wiped his eyes and took his place at the table. Terra felt sorry for him, though she knew that his punishment had been fair and in keeping with the rules of the dojo and would not be allowed to be taken to the point of cruelty. He was a good boy and genuinely wanted her forgiveness; another boy in his situation might have apologized only because he had been forced to.

Dinner was executed with the same discipline as every other activity. The Kohai sat by order of age and rank, which was indicated by the color of their belts and the number of stripes on them. Master Duncan sat at the head of one long table. Terra, Locke, and Edgar sat near him across from the Senpai and other high-ranking students.

Edgar, apparently satisfied that his twin was nowhere to be found, nevertheless looked harassed by the whispers and snickers and indiscreet looks of the Kohai. One look from their Sensei, however, and the boys bowed their heads and minded their own business. But Terra also wondered whether Edgar's visible agitation hadn't something to do with the discipline of the dojo. She had noticed that he wore a pained, almost indignant look, when he heard the reason why the boy had been beaten. After all, people always grow indignant when they see others punished for sins of which they themselves are guilty.

After Master Duncan said grace and everyone started eating, he greeted his guests.

"Welcome, friends," said the Sensei. "What brings you to Kolts Pass?" He seemed a very wise and subtle man, and knew how to show courtesy.

Locke made up a story about his family owning some land in Sabil Valley to the north. The party had made up their minds long ago to involve as few people in their plans as possible, even if they happened to be friends, so as not to needlessly endanger them. Thus it was unfortunately necessary to lie.

Whether or not Master Duncan believed their story Terra couldn't tell. He kept a cheerful look on his face and never made his guests feel uncomfortable. When it became evident that they were reluctant to give information, Master Duncan seamlessly brought the conversation around to life at the dojo on Mount Kolts. He told interesting anecdotes about students past and present, funny stories about former guests, and talked about his philosophy. "Training in high altitudes is part of the discipline," he said. "After exercising at this elevation, we have much greater endurance when we go down to the plains. This discipline boasts some of the greatest martial artists in the world.

"Also, the scarcity of the air here has had a great influence on our style. We have had to develop subtler moves that require less physical exertion. Our blocks and strikes are so non-evasive that a fight is often over before the other man realizes that he's dealing with an experienced fighter. Thus the fight rarely has a chance to escalate, and rarely is any permanent damage done. Our philosophy puts so high a value on human life that killing is always a last resort. Some will not perform a fatal strike even to save their own lives, believing that it is better to be deprived of life than to deprive another."

After dinner Master Duncan took Edgar aside to talk. They went into another room where Terra couldn't see them. She and Locke went out onto the porch to watch the sun go down behind the vast and seemingly endless mountains to the west, a view that was none the less beautiful for the fact that she had a headache and a feeling of malaise which she attributed to altitude sickness.

"Do you know anything about Edgar's mysterious twin?" said Terra.

"No," said Locke. "I don't know anything more than what you told me."

Terra continued. "I think whoever-he-is has stayed here before. Maybe he was a student. People here seem to notice their resemblance."

"Yeah, I've noticed that too."

"When do you think Edgar will tell us?"

"When he's ready, kid." Here Locke gave her his inscrutable grin, but his eyes were thoughtful. "Some of us carry heavy burdens. You should be thankful."

"Thankful that I don't have a memory?" she reproached him. "I would rather have a painful one than none at all." But she wasn't sure he heard this. He sat pensively, gazing westward towards the beautiful orange and purple sunset, thinking perhaps about Rachel.

"I think you'll have to wait a little longer, kid," said Locke, coming out of his revere. But whether this was in reference to Edgar's secret or his own, Terra didn't know.


	18. Part 1, Chapter 18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

THE LAST STRETCH

When they left the hostel the following day, Edgar was quieter than usual, a bit more kingly and aloof. Terra wondered if this had anything to do with the fact that they would soon reach the Returners' hideout, where his title would be known. But it also seemed that he was fortifying his heart for something. His relief at not meeting his twin at the hostel appeared to be swallowed up by an even greater anticipation of meeting him in the near future.

Terra thought it was telling that no one at the dojo knew that Edgar was a king. It meant that his twin was equally silent about him.

They had reached the highest point of the pass by mid-afternoon that day, after which the path began to fall, first gradually, then precipitously, causing them to choose their steps carefully. All their effort now went into keeping a steady pace.

Then, at the end of the first march, Edgar spoke. "Do you remember back in South Figaro, my dear, when you saw my lookalike?"

Terra nodded, but tried not to show her eagerness.

"That was my twin brother. We haven't spoken in years: we don't get along very well, you see. That's why I have been silent on the subject."

Terra waited for more, but realized with a sense of anticlimax that he wasn't going to continue. There had to be more to the story, for brothers don't cut off all contact with each other just because they don't get along. But Terra, warned by a look from Locke, didn't ask any questions. She wondered why Edgar had decided to tell them now.

But now she had her own issues to deal with. She knew that, when they reached the hideout, many things would come to a head. She thought of poor Arvis with his beautiful ugly scars, probably dead, or worse. She thought of the Empire and the Returners, and sensed that any lingering doubt as to which side she belonged would have to be decided once for all. The fragmented knowledge of her past that she had collected did not yet add up to an incontestable whole. Who was she? And _what_ (if not a witch) was she?—she who could bend nature to her will. What was the secret of her power, which for whatever reason was now inaccessible to her?

"Why do I feel no closer to the answer now than when I began?" Terra thought. And as she asked the question, two feelings rose up inside her which she tried to suppress as soon as they emerged: first, she felt a great and mighty immensity inside herself, something similar to the dread she'd felt towards Mount Kolts; secondly, a separation from Locke and Edgar and the whole human race that brought her to such a pitch of despair that she feared to lose herself in animal panic. Her heart beat wildly. She gasped, but suppressed the feeling before either of her friends noticed. More than one night this panic caused her to sit straight up suddenly, as one would upon sensing some danger.

It was hard that she felt such alienation without even the benefit of possessing those powers which alienated her. Little did she know it, but she would soon have need of them again.

The party was descending into a long—indeed, seemingly interminable valley. They were coming down into the southern end of a long stretch of green land entirely enclosed by mountains. If they could have looked down from the heavens, they might have supposed themselves to be entering into the bowl of a long and slightly crooked spoon, the handle of which extended far north, until it terminated at those impassible mountains beyond which lay the mouth of a serpentine river, and beyond that, the mountains of Narsha. This apparently roundabout route to the Returners' headquarters had really been the only way to travel there except by sea.

Sabil Valley had its own weather, quite apart from that of the outside world. On the other side of Mount Kolts it had been a hot and withering summer, but in the Valley it seemed a perpetual spring. Light and periodical rains raced down the Valley from the north, refreshing the wild flowers and the tall rolling grasses. The rains came and went so quickly that it often rained in bright daylight.

Terra was enjoying the fine weather, which provided some solace to her fears. They hoped to arrive at the Returners' hideout any day now, and this knowledge produced different effects on the party. For Terra, it meant decision and dread and an ominous encounter with the future and the past. Edgar grew sullen and taciturn, which caused Terra to think that he expected to find his brother. Locke, on the other hand, became more excited and impulsive.

"We're almost there, kid!" cried Locke when he couldn't contain himself any longer, and gave Terra a knowing wink. "Soon you'll meet Banon and the others. We're gonna stick it to the Empire now, aren't we? With you on our side…," then turning to Edgar, "hey, cheer up, buddy! Things are gonna start happening now!"

Edgar gave a half-hearted smile, and Terra was amused by the conflict of moods.

Then, one day, when Terra, Locke, and Edgar were walking their Chocobo and almost ready to mount again (which was fortunate, as the birds were now fully rested), they passed over the next hill and suddenly found, to their surprise, that they had walked almost directly into an imperial camp. Half a dozen soldiers looked up at the same time. There was a moment of bewildered amazement on both sides, and then all exploded into action.

"Ride!" cried either Locke or Edgar (Terra couldn't tell which). Instantly they mounted their birds and spurred them with all their might. The Chocobo took off like a shot straight through the enemy encampment. At the same time the soldiers jumped to their feet, overturning their dishes and a boiling pot on the campfire, which erupted into billowing clouds of smoke. One soldier went for his weapon, another for his horse; a third yelled, "It's the witch! Get her!" and jumped at Terra, trying to pull her down off her bird, but missed by a fraction of a second, just as her Chocobo leaped through the smoke of the extinguished campfire in order to evade him. Terra heard the soldier yell for her to stop: "Stop, Terra! Captain, stop!" For the briefest moment she was tempted to obey, but she didn't, and whether her frightened Chocobo would have obeyed her she didn't know. Her bird had a mind of its own, and ran full pelt.

By the time their pursuers had mounted, Terra, Locke, and Edgar had a good start on them. They were running in a _V_ formation with Locke in lead, running hard up the Valley, though he didn't seem to know where they were heading. Most likely, Terra thought, Locke hoped to lose them in the forest ahead, but that was still a long way off.

It was a long race. Terra repeatedly looked over her shoulder at their pursuers. She counted eight soldiers on horseback, a sight which filled her with fear and the exhilaration of the chase.

"They're gaining!" yelled Edgar. It was true. Horses are faster than Chocobo, though the latter have more stamina. If only they could go long enough they could outrun their enemies. But it became increasingly clear that the soldiers would soon overtake them. Within minutes their enemies closed the distance between them.

They had not yet reached the woods when the party came within javelin-range. After the first missed throw, Locke took a hard turn. All the Chocobo moved as one, maneuvering so quickly that Terra almost fell off. The birds' ability to instantly change direction and to move in unison put some distance between them and their pursuers. Thus they managed to elude the soldiers until they reached the forest.

Once inside the trees Terra and her friends found a little-worn path, perhaps a deer path. She heard a long, high-pitched whistle somewhere in the forest, not from the direction of the thundering gallop of their enemies, but she could not give it any thought. Her face and limbs were constantly whipped by low branches. She shut her eyes tightly, but couldn't guard her face with her hands because the terrain grew uneven and treacherous and she had to cling tightly to her Chocobo. Thankfully, their surefooted birds navigated the ground with ease, climbing steep hills and dropping down ditches with agility, and keeping their pursuers from closing the gap again.

But eventually they had nowhere left to run. The path widened and led them out into a clearing, at the far end of which was a cave in the foot of a mountain. "We're trapped!" Terra screamed. She looked behind and saw the mounted soldiers emerge into the clearing in single file, then form a line and approach with swords drawn and spears raised. She was terrified; her heart beat rapidly. The party stopped and turned to face them. Terra wanted to flee, perhaps into the cave. She looked to Locke, who wore, even now, even at the very end, his mischievous grin. But now his eyes, too, were filled with mischief.

Suddenly she heard a whistling overhead, and looked at the soldiers just in time to see a shower of arrows descend on them. Half were killed with the first volley, after which the surrounding trees shot at will. The line broke and the horses panicked, throwing their riders, as the arrows struck down horse and man. Their disembodied spirits faded away over the treetops. It was over in less than a minute, and all but a few of their horses survived. The archers began to climb down the trees.

Terra, grieved but astonished at their unexpected salvation, looked at Locke, and found that he was already looking at her. "Returners!" he said with delight.


	19. Part 2, Chapter 1

PART TWO

CHAPTER ONE

THE RETURNERS

Terra was still in shock from her rescue when the archers, joined by other Returners from the cave, came to meet the company. She was aware enough to notice a giant of a man approach. He was an immense with a bright red beard and hair, which immediately gave her the impression of a lion's mane. His eyes were dark and fierce, betraying great depths of authority and shrewdness. Terra did not need to be told the man's name.

"Terra," said Edgar, "this is Banon, leader of the Returners."

She had the impulse to curtsey, but on second thought felt it inappropriate in the rustic setting, and gave a nod, almost a bow, instead, and awkwardly extended her hand. For a moment she didn't know if he would take it. He watched her every move and expression with eyes so penetrating that she was unnerved. But then he relaxed and shook her hand (more gently than she would have thought possible), and his expression turned to one of mirth. At that moment, Terra thought, everyone breathed again. She hadn't noticed until afterwards (and so it might have been her imagination), but the joy and noise with which the Returners initially met Locke and even Edgar—though they showed him the respect proper to a king—subsided as everyone watched to see the result of the encounter between the "witch" and the chieftain. It was surely a momentous occasion, though no one perhaps understood its meaning.

Banon spoke with a deep, raspy voice like distant thunder: "Welcome, Edgar, king of Figaro. Welcome, Locke, our friend who has returned to us. And welcome, Terra, Captain and sorceress of the Empire, who comes in the form of peace and friendship." Terra didn't know whether "in the form of" carried any implications; it was spoken with earnestness and not a shred of mockery or distrust, though from this shrewd eyes she guessed that she was under suspicion.

I'm afraid from this moment on the suspicion remained—at least in her mind.

After this jovial and formal greeting—Terra realized a curtsey would not have been out of place after all—Banon ordered the soldiers' bodies to be buried, a bonfire made, and the meal prepared, and then retired with King Edgar. The two men sat and talked on rocks in the shadow of the cave opening. It was a striking image, the travel-sullied king and the kingly barbarian, both bearing that admixture of qualities, one by accident of fortune, the other by accident of nature.

But all this time Locke was so enraptured by his reunion with his friends that he forgot about Terra altogether. Terra watched him talk rapidly with a group of boys and young men. Each interrupted the other and talked louder and faster to be heard, but most of the interruptions were jokes and questions about Locke's journey, which he recounted with all the gestures and energy and ebullience that he possessed. Terra didn't even have the comfort of her Chocobo, for they had been led away.

So she sat by herself, inconspicuously, so she hoped. From time to time she glanced at Edgar and Banon, then at Locke and his friends, and then at the boys gathering wood for the bonfire. The latter had the unpleasant habit of whispering to one another and staring at her, as if she were a caged animal. She tried not to let it bother her. She looked around for female companionship but found none. There were no women or children to be found. This clearly was a military band.

Terra sighed and absentmindedly uprooted the grass.

I'm sorry to say that Terra's situation didn't improve much after dinner. Edgar and Banon retired again to talk by themselves, and then for the night. Terra had suffered the embarrassment of asking to be part of their conversation, only to be denied as politely as possible by Edgar, who confessed that she did not yet have Banon's full confidence, though he assured her that by his efforts she soon would.

For more than an hour Locke was nowhere to be found. It was getting dark now, and Terra remained by the huge bonfire, which began to burn low, and tried to ignore the obnoxious boys, in whose whispers she caught word "witch" all too often. She was looked on with fear, fascination, lust, and curiosity, but in the end they lost interest in her. She grew irritated with Locke and even Edgar, and by the time Locke appeared (still surrounded by his friends) she pushed her way through to him and demanded that he come talk to her alone. Locke was bewildered by her anger and his friends laughed openly at her intrusion, and joked among themselves about reasons why she wanted him alone—all of which were of course suspected to be amorous. Locke reproached them and took Terra aside.

"Locke!" said Terra. "You've left me alone all night. I don't know anybody here!"

"Come on, Terra," he said. "I haven't seen these guys in a long time. I promise to stay with you tomorrow." From his tone of voice, he might as well have accused her of nagging. She instantly resented him for it.

"Fine," she said coldly. "Just show me where I'm sleeping. I'm going to bed."

He said he didn't know where she was to sleep, but that he would find someone who did. He returned and asked one of his friends. She didn't hear the answer, but the others started laughing and Locke punched the speaker in the arm. A play fight followed. Locke and the other man wrestled on the ground. When it was over everyone had forgotten about Terra.

I won't relate to you the entirety of that miserable night, but after repeated inquiries without success, Terra finally tried to find her way in the cave by herself. But finding no place to sleep, and it being too dark even with mounted torches, she went back outside and asked where she could find her baggage. By this time both Locke and Edgar had disappeared for the night.

Finally, after a long and tedious search, she found their Chocobo, only to discover that their things had been taken somewhere else. The forest was now very dark, the stars were out, and the bonfire was a ruin of embers. Most of the Returners had gone into the cave for the night. Finally, after pleading with one boy, she prevailed upon him to go get her pack from the cave, and also her tent. She waited so long that she despaired of his ever coming out again. It was a cold night without a cloak. Finally the boy returned with her tent and Locke's pack. "Good enough," she thought.

She set up her tent in a flat area to one side of the cave opening, near the treeline. Finally, cold, miserable, and alone, she crawled into her tent, wrapped Locke's warm and smelly blanket around her, and tried to go to sleep. By now everyone had gone to bed, and the only sound came from the crickets and an occasional wind in the trees.

For a long time Terra was too angry to sleep. Then, when she was about to doze off, she heard a twig snap nearby. It was loud and came from the forest.

"Who's there?" she demanded. There was no answer.

It sounded like a big man—or an animal. It came closer, until she heard it sniffing around the tent. It ran its nose across the canvas on one side. Terra was absolutely silent, trembling like a leaf, too scared even to check for Locke's sword. "It must be a bear," Terra thought. She was petrified, lying curled up, with heightened senses and her heart pounding, not daring to make a sound. Finally, with a grunt, the beast lost interest and lumbered off into the woods again. Terra wept bitterly, and didn't drop off to sleep until close to dawn.


	20. Part 2, Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

BROTHERS REUNITE

Terra awoke to the sound of Edgar's voice. She had not slept much, and her tiredness, combined with all the discomforts and fears and alienation of the night before, put her into a mixed state of mind. She was both angry and in desperate need of something familiar. It is understandable, then, that she reacted as she did towards Edgar.

"Terra?" said Edgar, with a note of curiosity in his voice that betrayed his surprise at finding her sleeping outside. To add to this surprise, Terra jumped out of her tent, threw her arms around him, and cried into his shirt.

"Why, what on earth is the matter, my dear?" said Edgar, stroking her hair and giving her a kiss on the forehead, which, under the circumstances, Terra didn't mind.

She pulled away and rapidly recounted the whole terrible night to him. She did not find, as with Locke, any contempt in his response, but only his full sympathy, which she believed to be genuine.

"I am terribly sorry, my dear. I will see to it myself that you find your quarters tonight. Locke's behavior is really inexcusable. I would have excused myself from Banon if it had been possible."

At breakfast Locke found Terra a changed woman. She sat with Edgar—who, to his discredit, lorded over his newfound favor with her—and hardly spoke a word to Locke. When she did, it was only short, curt replies. Not once did she make eye contact with him.

All this was not lost on Locke. True to his word, he was trying to keep her company, but what with her ignoring him and her sudden friendlessness to Edgar—which of course Locke misinterpreted, partly due to Edgar's misinformation, partly because Terra wouldn't correct it—and what with Locke's friends teasing him to no end, he finally gave up. As a consequence, when Terra decided that he had been punished enough, he was no longer trying to open up communication, and each was too proud to approach the other. Thus they did not speak to each other at all that day.

You or I might think that Terra was (all things considered) a bit too hard on him, but Terra herself would live to regret it, for, as often happens in life, she counted on having more time with him than she had.

That day Terra saw the inside of the Returners' cave. Edgar, who after breakfast suddenly manifested signs of great anxiety, nevertheless managed to spare some time in the morning showing her around. It was lit by mounted lamps and cracks in the rocks overhead, through which sunbeams shot in and scattered the darkness. It looked to Terra like an old mine, and indeed there was a dilapidated and fragmented track running along the ground from the entrance to a huge cavern. This room, aptly called the Commodium, was well-lit by a narrow crack that ran the whole length of the wall. Sunlight and a freezing breeze poured in through this fissure. There was the sound of running water and a little pool in a sunken place in the floor at the bottom of the crack, the end of the little stream that ran away and out of sight when the cleft narrowed to a point or else turned to the side. It was terribly cold in the cave, even during the day.

In the Commodium, which the Returners had made into a living area with tables and benches and fire-pits, every cave and tunnel converged. From here Edgar showed Terra her room, which was a little way in inside one of the tunnels, and which even had a door. It was even colder in here. Edgar distractedly assured her that she would have a pile of blankets and furs to sleep under that night, and that she would have a hot pan of coals to put under her feet.

Then, having shown Terra her quarters, and not being able to contain his anxiety any longer, Edgar left her, apologizing profusely. Terra didn't ask any questions. She took a fur from her room, wrapped herself up, and went to the Commodium. There she saw a group of men talking at a table in the wide sunbeam issuing from the fissure. They lowered their voices when she approached, but otherwise didn't acknowledge her presence. Terra walked past them towards the tunnel leading outside, trying not look as if she noticed the silence she had caused. She sighed and left the men to their plans. This too promised to be a long and lonely day.

Outside Terra managed to catch a few words from a couple of boys who didn't notice her approach. (By now she was used to being treated like a leper.) She distinctly heard them say, "His brother sent ahead to say he'd be arriving by midday—Listen! There's the signal arrow! He's back!"

Terra had heard the same high pitch sound she had heard when they were fleeing into the forest. She looked around the clearing, and by a stroke of luck spotted Edgar nearby, who had just stood up from a rock he'd been sitting on, pipe in hand. His face was pale as he watched to see the moment the forest would give him his brother. Everyone stopped what they were doing and waited. Even the wind was quiet; the trees seemed to stand to attention. All this time Edgar forgot to smoke.

And then he came. He emerged quietly from the shadow that fell upon the path, without bird or horse or companion—quietly, I say, though the moment he appeared there was a cheer and a "Hurrah for Sabin! Hurrah!" The boys that had announced his coming looked like they wanted to run to meet him, but didn't know if they could. Edgar too took a tentative step towards his brother, but halted. His pipe had gone out.

Sabin, as we have seen before, was even more broad and muscular than his twin. He shared Edgar's blonde hair, but wore it short. His skin had been darkened by the sun, and a heaviness wrinkled his brow, from care or sorrow. It gave him a markedly stern expression, which, combined with his strong bearing, made him appear unapproachable.

But in the time it took for me to describe him, Sabin had crossed the clearing and locked Banon, who had come out to meet him, in a titanic embrace. Only Banon could make Sabin look small. Sabin smiled, but his was not a face of many smiles, and so it inevitably gave him a worried look. And yet in that instant Terra perceived what perhaps few ever saw (or were allowed to see): gentleness. Beneath that iron-clad exterior still beat a living heart.

Next, Sabin turned to his brother. Terra watched with a beating heart and rapt attention as the two brothers stood face to face like two walls of gravity and tension—or like two cresting waves about to crash into one another. Terra didn't know if they would hug or kill each other. Then, at last, when the suspense was at its height, they embraced and shook hands with laughter and friendly words and even tears. There was a universal sense of relief, and yet not all was as it should be. There was a certain artificiality about it. The waves had broken upon each other and the waters had stilled, though how long the calm would last no one knew. The brothers were reunited but not reconciled.


	21. Part 2, Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

WAR COUNSEL

Terra had watched the interview between Edgar and Sabin transpire from a short distance. When it was over, Edgar summoned her with a wave of his hand.

"My dear, this is my brother, Sabin," he said in a tone of disbelief and still with some uneasiness. "Sabin, this is Terra, the…uh…former imperial captain." At the mention of her name, Sabin started, but he shook her hand courteously (though perhaps not without suspicion) and gave a smile, an expression which, as I said before, seemed so alien to that sorrowful face that it gave him a look of worry or concern.

"Pleased to meet you," he said.

"Likewise," said Terra. She could see that, beneath his gloominess and distrustfulness, there was a wise and gentle spirit. She hoped she could get him to trust her soon, since she was so short of friends. _Where was Locke?_

Sabin glanced uncertainly from Banon, who was still nearby, to Terra and back again. "I have troubling news, Banon. A troop of soldiers is not far—." But Banon cut him off by clearing his throat, which from him sounded like a growl.

Just then Edgar seemed to wake as from a dream. "Terra," he said suddenly, "May I speak to you for a moment?" So saying, he took her elbow and led her away. As soon as they were far enough away, Terra ripped her elbow out of Edgar's grasp and stood with arms crossed, sighing with anger and a sense of injury.

"I'm sorry, my dear," said Edgar. "I'm doing all I can. But you must look at it from Banon's point of view. Although you have no recollection of your past, the rest of the world has trembled at news of the Imperial Terror. Parents scare their children at bedtime with stories of the—forgive me for saying it—the 'Imperial Witch.' Banon has not had the pleasure of your company for months, and he can't be expected to immediately—"

"I know, Edgar," said Terra. "I know. It's just hard for me. I feel like an outcast here, and Locke…." Terra said no more. Edgar was at a loss as to how to comfort her.

Just then there was some noise that drew their attention to the excitement that now surrounded Banon and Sabin. Many Returners had gathered already and more were coming. Finally Banon said in a thunderous voice, "Quiet! Have everyone assembled in the Commodium in one hour. Then we shall take counsel for war." At this the noise died down and the crowd dispersed, some forming smaller groups to speak in hushed voices, others presumably going to fetch those not present. Two signal arrows went up.

"What's happening?" said Terra to Edgar. "Are we going to war?"

"I don't know, my dear," said Edgar. "I have to go speak with Banon. Can you entertain yourself for a while? I would advise that you be packed and ready to go in an hour, whatever happens."

Edgar hurried back while Terra bitterly shuffled her feet and headed for the cave.

The war counsel took place in the Commodium. Terra could hear the deep, sonorous tone of Banon's voice issue from out of the cave, but understood nothing. She sat in the lonesome clearing caressing and being nuzzled by her Chocobo. He was saddled and Terra's packs lay beside. She would not burden him until it was necessary.

She had packed quickly and spent the rest of the hour looking for Locke, but with no success. She sighed.

"I should give you a name," Terra said, petting the bird. "How about 'Arvis'?" The Chocobo squawked appreciatively. "Arvis it is, then."

I won't bother you with the details of her dreary wait.

At the end of the counsel there was a loud cry from the Returners inside the cave and a, "Death to the Empire!" Then men came out en masse. They were all in a hurry. They were mounting Chocobo and leaving, both in groups and singly, armed and disguised, mounted and on foot. Terra scanned the rush of men for Locke. At last she spotted him! He too was in a hurry, but for a brief moment their eyes met. His were sad. She waved to him, but he turned and was again lost in the current. Terra was just about to go after him when Edgar appeared.

"What's going on?" said Terra, still looking for Locke as he spoke.

"I can tell you that our whereabouts have been discovered and Kefka's forces are right now heading this way. A few of the horses of those soldiers that were shot down returned to camp riderless, and since then the imperial scouts in the Sabil Valley have been as numerous as locusts. Sabin brought us this news. Then, this morning he brought a report from one of our archers that a scout found his way into the woods, spotted our hideout, and escaped before he could be caught."

"What are we going to do?"

"Our forces have grown weak. The Empire's spies are everywhere, and they have been weeding us out for a long time. Now is the time to strike, for, desperate as it is, if we do not strike now, we will not have another chance. Banon has sent out his men to contact all the Returners in the free city-states of the world. He's raising an army. Everyone is to gather at Narsha. There we will have one last stand against the Emperor's tyranny. I don't suppose it will be a success, but it is the sort of thing that lives on in song and legend for hundreds of years—"

"Why Narsha?" asked Terra, still looking for Locke, and growing nervous, as the Returners were growing few.

"That is where you come in, my dear. You see, tactically, Narsha is built like a fortress and possesses a network of caves that would be useful for a retreat. But the main reason is that Banon has been forced to make a desperate gamble. You see, my dear, we are putting all our hope in you."

"What do you mean?" said Terra shortly, annoyed by his lengthy speech, and wanting to go look for Locke. _What did his eyes mean?_

"Well, Banon seems to think that you still have use of your powers. He is also impressed by the fact that the Esper didn't (or couldn't) kill you. If the Empire ever got hold of its power, it is said that the Emperor would gain immortality and usher in a thousand years of darkness. Very apocalyptic stuff, my dear. I am not a religious man myself, but even I tremble at the thought of what might happen if they ever got their hands on it."

"But what does this have to do with me!" said Terra, losing her temper.

"As I said, it is a desperate gamble, but Banon hopes that you, my dear—look how highly he thinks of you already!—that _you_ could speak to the Esper on our behalf. With your…uh…talents, we might be able to make it see our point of view—"

Finally Terra's apprehensiveness overcame her. "Where's Locke? Help me find him!"

Edgar looked at the ground. "He's gone, my dear. He's been sent on urgent assignment to—"

Terra, tears standing in her eyes, grew livid at Edgar, whose speech had delayed her (probably deliberately) and prevented her from speaking to Locke in time, and she fixed him with a look that said, "How could you!" and dashed off in search of Locke. She looked for him at the stables, on the path, in the clearing, and finally in the cave. In the Commodium she finally broke down and cried bitterly at a table, disregarding the men watching nearby.

Terra was angry that Locke had left without saying goodbye, and that they were parted on bad terms. She walked over to the crack in the wall and basked in its sunlight. She could see a one long streak of sky between the rock, like a living brushstroke, and she could see her reflection in the pool at her feet.

All at once it struck her—how childish their fight had been, and how weak and dependent she had become. Looking at her own reflection, which rippled gently and reflected the sun's rays in a marvelous pattern, she saw the queenly nobility which she had first seen in Arvis' mirror long ago. Almost imperceptibly the moment passed (she only noticed it afterwards) in which she resolved to be stronger, to cast aside the dependence on chance and fortune and people which she had slowly been sinking into. She had grown too comfortable. For another woman, perhaps, this resolve would have been born out of injury and disappointment, and it would have rotted the soul, but Terra accepted her self-reproach and strove to be independent not out of malice or vengeance or distrust or fear—no, Terra acted out of _noblesse oblige_, because in spirit she was queenly and it was time she acted like it. It is strange, but even the temptations of pride were not present in this moment. She looked upon that transaction in her soul with detachment, approving the good and dismissing the bad, willingly but apparently without effort, and if she felt anything at all, it was wonder at how this was possible for a human heart to do without evil and without guilt. But then again, she was not strictly human.


	22. Part 2, Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

DIASPORA

Terra said a prayer for Locke's protection, fortified her resolution by wiping the last tears from her eyes, and marched back outside to Edgar, who was waiting with his brother Sabin, Banon, and three other Returners.

Terra went straight up to Banon and addressed him directly, not an awkward or inappropriate thing now that she had risen to her former place in her own heart.

"I am ready to aid you in your fight against the Empire," she said. "I will go with you as far as Narsha and speak to the Esper on your behalf, and if the gods smile upon our venture, you will have gained two great allies instead of one. Now tell me whither lies our road."

She spoke these words with queenly grace and matriarchal composure, her eyes never wavering from Banon's. If she could have seen the expressions of the other men, she would have noticed astonishment on the Returners' faces, who were not used to seeing their leader addressed so. Edgar too looked upon Terra with renewed admiration and something resembling awe. She looked to him now like one of the marble statues of the ancient goddesses, or like his own queen-mother at the height of her beauty and power.

Her strength was rewarded, for after a moment Banon spoke to her with the utmost respect: "Captain, our way lies across the sea to the Eastern Continent. We will muster our forces in Mobliz and sail from the Cape for Narsha and the North."

So saying, Banon mounted his horse—for no Chocobo could support so great a man—and the party set out. His horse fit him well: it was a large and proud animal, with a long tail and massive hair-covered hooves. Edgar had been given a horse too. The rest of the party followed Banon on Chocobo, and looked diminutive by comparison. Sabin appeared to Terra to sit ill at ease on his bird. He seemed out of place: he would have looked more comfortable walking; he might have been happier alone. Nevertheless Terra was eager to be let into his confidence.

But there was no time for that now. All were on the alert for the enemy, which was sure to be out in force. They rode north through the woods alongside the mountains until they came to a great fissure. It was a straight passage—perhaps thirty feet in width at its widest, fifteen at its narrowest—between two cliffs which rose to a dizzying height. A fierce wind carried the scent of the sea toward them.

Here they were forced to dismount, for the fallen rocks in the passage forced them to constantly climb up and down and retarded their progress. Terra didn't much like this, for besides being a lot of work, it kept her eyes on her footing and prevented her from keeping watch for enemies and falling rocks. For fear of the latter, the party pressed to one side and went under indented precipices whenever possible, though they passed through without incident. The cliffs echoed and amplified the hoof-falls and the little falling streams and, once, what sounded like a peal of thunder behind them. This gave them pause, but they deduced that it had been some great boulder, loosed by wind and time.

At last, fairly exhausted from their climb, the Returners emerged upon a promontory, a great rock which towered high above the water below, and commanded a view of the whole bay. Here they stopped for a moment's rest. A warm sea wind rushed up to meet them and blew Terra's hair back. At first glance, the bay seemed to be entirely useless for nautical purposes, for it was bordered on all sides by sea cliffs. Against these the waves crashed with tremendous power and shot their white spray up a hundred feet into the air. Any ship that ventured too close was sure to be dashed to splinters in a single blow.

But now that Terra looked, she saw a path on one side leading down, and by holding onto the branch of a tree and leaning out a little (which gave her instantaneous nausea) she saw a rocky shore and a ship. The ship looked comparatively small and tossed about in the turbulent waves. As a testament to its precarious position it was held in place by four anchors. Terra, slightly sick and all atremble, backed cautiously away from the edge.

By now the party had recovered its strength and began the treacherous descent. More than once the path narrowed almost to a point, with a cliff on one side and a straight drop on the other. Their salvation was that small trees had grown on the ledge and their roots kept the soil from falling away beneath their feet. The Returners used the branches to steady themselves. Nevertheless, the horses had a difficult time (especially Banon's mammoth beast) and constantly needed to be cajoled onward. Terra was in terror of one of these animals losing its footing and falling to its death on the rocks below. It would be a horrific sight.

But again, the Returners reached the shore and boarded without incident. There seemed to be an auspicious air surrounding their travels. It assured the foot, filled the lungs, and loosened the tongue. And sure enough, the Returners' first night at sea was marked by song and story.

Terra was on deck that evening, severely seasick, despite the relative calm of the waters. She tried not to let it bother her, but nevertheless found herself the constant companion of the starboard bulwark. It was twilight and there was not a cloud in the sky. She looked aft and saw the Winged Star burning steady and bright.

She was feeling a bit better by the time she was joined by Calogrent and Kaye, two of the Returners that rode with her from the Hideout. Edgar and Sabin had disappeared together earlier, and when they came up on deck (separately) Edgar looked angry and Sabin grave. Not long afterwards they retired (separately) for the night. So Terra, Calogrent, and Kaye sat down on deck all three together and Calogrent told a story—partly, Terra supposed, to get her mind off her nausea. Calogrent amused her at his own expense, for it was not a flattering tale.

It would have been more enjoyable had it not been for Kaye. At every point in Calogrent's story when Terra laughed, at every point when he related his blunders and misadventures, Kaye showered him with scorn. Calogrent went on heedlessly, but finally, after numerous incidents of "That's because you're an idiot" and "It takes a real imbecile to make that mistake," Terra reproached him.

"Enough already, Kaye!" she said. "You should be ashamed of yourself, talking like that about your friend." Kaye blushed with shame and embarrassment. He made several false starts and finally fell silent.

"Don't worry about him, Terra. He's always like this. I just ignore it." With that, Calogrent went on with his tale. But some time later, Kaye interrupted and said (obviously agitated):

"Is there anything else Saint Terra would like to say?"

The impertinence of this remark and its irrelevance to the story confused her.

"What?" said Terra. "Why do you call me a saint?"

"'Oh! Calogrent's feelings are so sensitive! We should be nice to him!'" he mocked, though in an awkward and contrived way. Terra said nothing, and Kaye's face reddened as his shame deepened into humiliation. To get up and leave would have been too great a defeat, perhaps, because Kaye just sat there and uttered not a word until the end of the story.

When Calogrent's marvelous tale was ended, Kaye did get up and go below for the night. Terra's seasickness had mostly subsided, and she felt good enough to drink a little water and eat some bread. Calogrent kept her company. There was a murmur of adventure and war about the ship, and men sang songs and recited poems of heroes and great deeds.

_What fury woke, what heavens broke,_

_What sparked the war 'twixt gods and men?_

_Yea, was it not the mortals' plot_

_To steal the bright immortals' ken?_

_ "Let's raise a shrine, O men divine_

_ And craft thereon Man's sign and seal._

_ Let's shape the gear, and kill the seer,_

_ No longer to the gods appeal."_

_ And what became of man's great name_

_But ruined stone and guttered flame?_

_Wheel and fire, lever, wand?_

_ Ashen leaf and withered frond._

_ What fury then, what wrath, on men_

_ Fell from the Justice up on high._

_ From Heaven fell, with none to quell,_

_ The doom of men condemned to die._

_ The heavens rent, on men was sent_

_ A rain of stone, of ice and fire._

_ And but for love God had made of_

_ All men one end, the world one bier._

_ And what became of man's great name_

_But ruined stone and guttered flame?_

_Wheel and fire, gear and wand?_

_ Ashen leaf and withered frond._

_Who then appeared, when men most feared,_

_ To hush the babe and calm the mother,_

_ In glory shod, nor man nor god,_

_ But god to one and man the other,_

_ Who but Elieis, the Sacrifice._

_ Besought he gods for men most dire,_

_ Besought he men, their sins forgiven,_

_ And saved them from Esperial fire._

_ What had become of man's great name_

_ But ruined stone and guttered flame?_

_ Wheel and fire, lever, wand?_

_ Ashen leaf and withered frond. _

_ Praised be Elieis, Esper-man,_

_ Restored he peace from land to land_

_ And age to age, to come again_

_ Not till the day man worships Man._


	23. Part 2, Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

A STORM AT SEA

That same night on the ship Terra noticed a grave and sorrow-worn man. He was tall and had a patch on one eye and a scar beneath the other. He sat coiling rope while other men made merry and sang.

"Who's he?" Terra asked Calogrent.

"That's Syan," he replied. "He was retainer to the king of Doma, before that kingdom fell to the Empire."

"Why doesn't he sing like other men?"

"I imagine his heart is too heavy," said Calogrent in lower tones. "When he was younger, he was in the Siege of Doma Castle. It lasted for over a year. The Empire set magitek riding-armor, infantry, archers, and siege ramps against the castle, but its walls remained strong. It is an ancient castle, made out of a rock that is no longer found and by a skill that is forgotten. The Domans had enough grain and food stores to outlast the siege, but their water came from a stream that fell cool and clear down from the mountains.

"General Leo" (Terra had heard the name before) "had mounted the attack. Although he is an imperial general," Calogrent added, "he is a noble and chivalrous man. He often commanded his troops to cease battle so that both sides could bury their dead. He would even grant a respite for holidays. All men love him. Even his enemies count it an honor to fight him."

"That doesn't explain Syan's sorrow," Terra said.

"I haven't told all," said Calogrent. "Kefka the Dragon-hearted grew impatient with Leo's progress. He came with forged letters from the Emperor, requesting that Leo return to Vector immediately and leave Kefka in charge. Leo set out immediately, but not without first commanding Kefka not to change his policies while he was away, and charging him to show humanity and _trawthe _towards the Domans. Kefka, with his forked tongue, agreed to whatever General Leo said. He would have said anything to get him to leave.

"The next day General Kefka ordered his men to pile the dead in the stream that fed the waters of Doma; both imperial and Doman corpses he threw into the stream. Any man who remained loyal to Leo or who refused to desecrate his comrades' bodies was sent to the front lines to die.

"The vast number of rotting corpses choked the stream, so that little water passed through. Thinking that Kefka was rerouting their water source, the Domans quickly emptied all their wine barrels and filled them with the poisoned water, and drank their fill. Even the king drank. Only Syan and a few others did not.

"One by one the Domans fell into fever, and then to death. Those who survived were too few to withhold the Empire any longer, and the glorious castle of Doma fell to Kefka the All-devouring.

"Syan had a wife and twelve children, both girls and boys. Kefka had his men rape and strangle Syan's entire family before his eyes. Then Kefka had him blinded with a hot iron. Syan wandered blind and mad in the forest for many days. He prayed to the gods to restore his sight so that he might have vengeance. At the end of that time, sight returned to one of his eyes."

Terra was crying. She was overwhelmed with saddness and anger that any man could be so cruel. She asked how Kefka, or any man, could do such things.

"Some say he's not a man but a devil," said Calogrent.

One night at sea, around midnight, a storm rose up out of the east. Terra remained below holding onto a bucket while the ship pitched and rose and fell. She could hear the shouting and stomping of the sailors up top. She tried to sleep but couldn't, not with the violent tossing of the ship. The storm lasted all through the night, and indeed seemed to grow worse, until sunrise, when it dissipated into the west.

The Winged Star appeared again to watch over them. But now, Terra learned, the ship was taking on water. The captain searched the seas for a sight of land. He soon found it. A call rang out, followed by a cheer, and before she knew it Terra was in the ship's boat heading towards a bright, sandy beach. She was much relieved to be on solid ground again, though her legs were unsteady at first.

The sand of the beach was perfectly white, the sun was high and warm, and the trees tall and leafy. There were huge green palm fronds and coconuts the size of melons. There were broken eggs and little tracks in the sand leading down to the water, where no doubt a group of young turtles met the mighty sea for the first time. The waves ran calm and smooth in long strides up the beach, before retreating back.

The island was inhabited. The natives were strangely dressed, and had odd customs and superstitions, but they were very friendly. That night, while repairs were being made to the ship, Terra and some of the crew slept on the beach. Some of the natives had come too, to trade with and observe the Returners, who probably seemed just as strange to them.

While Terra was helping feed the fire, a snake came out of the woodpile and bit her hand. It hurt incredibly and she was afraid that she'd been poisoned. She willed with all her might that it was not so, and eventually the pain lessened. She wondered ever afterwards whether that was the moment when she regained her powers, or whether the snake had been harmless. At any rate, when the natives saw that she was unharmed, they prostrated themselves before her and chanted in their own language.

Terra tried to tell them that she was just a woman, but they didn't understand and only worshipped her all the more.

The repairs to the _Mercuria_ (for that was her name) took several days, leaving Terra and others ample time to explore the island and get acquainted with the islanders. Terra, Calogrent, and King Edgar were led into the interior of the island to the natives' village. The bronze-complexioned, scantily clad islanders lived in huts made out of straw and baked mud. Children kicking a ball ran laughing and shrieking through the street. Men traded, worked, built, and even wrestled in what looked like formal competitions. The women wore earrings, necklaces, rings, and other ornaments made out of animal teeth and bones. (Terra noticed Edgar eyeing them.) The expecting mothers' happy, round bellies were fully exposed and bronzed by the sun. They wore white wreaths on their heads to distinguish them from unmarried girls.

There was a simplicity and a merriness about them that warmed Terra's heart. These people knew of no Empire, of no imminent war. They loved all and feared none. To be sure, one sweep of the Emperor's hand could instantly wipe out their entire civilization. Indeed, little did they know it, but the islanders were a tiny cup of bliss poised on the brink of destruction. One moment of exquisite pain and then this happy island would be swept away and into the next world. But every moment until that one would be so filled with this characteristic love, and the islanders' separation would be so short before they reassembled on the other side, and death would so obliterate the memory of itself, that the moment of their destruction would be nothing more than an inconsequential interruption in their history—like birth-pangs, forgotten the moment that life is born. Nevertheless, their island was worth defending, perhaps less for the sake of the islanders than for the sake of the world. Oh, if Terra could only stay!

It appeared they had but one plight: Their patriarch was dying. Terra learned this when she and her two companions entered the big hut on the hill in the center of the village. Apparently Terra had been brought here expressly for this purpose.

Upon entering the hut, Terra, Calogrent, and Edgar were showered with gifts of fruit, ivory, and dyed cloth. The greater part of the extravagance was spent on Terra. The two young men who had been their guides gestured to her to come into the inner room, separated from the other room by a veil of beaded strings hanging from the ceiling. When Calogrent and Edgar made to follow her, the young men motioned to them to wait outside as apologetically as they could. Terra assured her friends that she would be fine and then followed the men in.

There she found an old man lying on a huge bed. Beside him with a rag and a bucket of water was a woman of about the same age. Judging from their clothing and the ornateness of the hut, this was the king and queen of the island.

The young men got down on their knees, and one of them had a brief conversation with the queen, in which he frequently point to Terra. The queen then looked at Terra with an expression of hope and awe, and finally beckoned her to come forward. Terra did so, though she was at a bit of a loss as to what they expected of her. The king was pale and shivered occasionally, though he was sweating. He looked weak and vacant, as if he only lingered on the edge of waking.

Terra's heart went out to him and to his people, but after standing over him for a few minutes she looked from the queen to the young men for some kind of instructions. The queen's eyes plead with her to do something. Finally, one of the young men (the one who had spoken to the queen), attempted to communicate to her through signs. At first Terra didn't understand. He pointed to her, made a snaking motion with his finger, pretended to bite his hand, fell down on the ground, got up again, and then pointed from her to the king. Then all at once she understood: They thought she had healed herself from that snakebite, and that she could heal the king. It broke her heart.

What could she do for him? She had tried to use magic on so many other occasions, and each time she had failed—even when the life of one of her friends was in danger. How would this time be any different? Despite the enormous compassion that she had for these people, she was afraid of even trying (lest she only humiliate herself and give them false hope). But in the end she decided that she had better try anyway.

She didn't know what to do, but she put her hands on the king's chest and began wishing in her heart that he get better. The room was as silent as the grave. Neither the queen nor the young men made any sound or movement. She could feel their eyes fixed on her with the utmost attention. The king too looked up at her from his delirium and seemed to understand, for a faint smile of gratitude formed on his lips. Then Terra realized that she had been distracted, and began again. This time, thinking that she wouldn't be so easily distracted if she did it out loud, she murmured: "Get better. Be healed. Please, just be healed." She continued to feel a little silly, but she put that out of her mind and stuck to the task at hand. "Please," she prayed, "if any gods can hear me, show mercy to these people. Heal their king. Let me heal this man."

Terra went on like this for a long time. She closed her eyes tightly, praying softly, with her hands on the king's chest. Eventually something started to happen. She began to feel warm all over and especially in the palms of her hands. She felt power welling up inside of her, building, building towards a prodigious event. Terra opened her eyes and found that the insides of her hands were glowing with white light. The light grew and filled the whole room, and it filled the frail body of the king. Light streamed out of his every pore. Terra could feel strength returning to him even as she touched him.

But something else was happening inside her all this time. The moment in which she first felt this power was accompanied by a growing dread. Chaotic thoughts flashed before her mind: the frozen Esper, the immensity of Mount Kolts, light and darkness, violet fire and a glorious bird (now like the Esper, now not); and behind all these visions the dread approach of a feminine entity, a near-infinite being taking shape, whose coming meant to Terra severance from the human race, and through severance, despair!

At last Terra could stand it no longer. With a gasp she released the king and slunk to the floor, trembling. Her head swam. She was exhausted body and mind. She only realized that Edgar and Calogrent were in the room when they helped her to her feet. A woman was kneeling and kissing her hands—it was the queen. The king was getting out of bed.


	24. Part 2, Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

DISEMBARKATION

"Are you all right now, my dear?" said a voice.

Terra looked absently at the speaker for a moment. She found herself sitting against a tree outside, a short distance away from the island-king's hut. Edgar was kneeling beside her and Calogrent stood a few feet away (out of respect, apparently).

"We saw a strange light coming from the room. When we went in, you were sitting on the floor, looking a bit pale and bemused. Everyone else seemed to be...celebrating."

Terra's mind still felt a little numb and empty, and she had a mild headache, but her strength had returned to her. She stood up with Edgar's help. (She didn't need it, but he insisted.)

"I...I healed their king," said Terra at last, but only realized the fact once the words were out of her mouth. Edgar looked surprised and then delighted.

"That's wonderful, my dear. It seems your abilities have returned to you."

"Maybe," said Terra. Whether she had regained her powers completely, or whether this incident had only been a fluke, she didn't know. In any case, she would be in no condition to test them again that day. All she wanted now was to rest—which of course is exactly what she wouldn't get to do.

By now the island-king and -queen and their attendants and the whole village had assembled before the king's hut. The king, spry and full of health and hale, danced before them all. There were cheers and shouts of joy. Before she knew it, the king's attendants had found them. They begged Terra and her companions to come with them.

"I guess they want to thank you," said Calogrent good-humoredly and by way of understatement.

That night there was a feast of monumental proportions. It was such a festive and gay occasion, so full of life and merrymaking, that it would take a hundred pages to describe and a thousand to describe well. And even if Terra had not been mentally taxed she would not have been able to take it all in. Suffice it to say that there was singing and dancing, food and drink without limit, plays, and all manner of performance—and all in honor of Terra. The king and queen waited on her themselves. Calogrent and Edgar were offered wives; Terra was offered a throne...or perhaps a temple (the language barrier prevented her from perfectly understanding them). She tried to dissuade them from worshiping her—knowing that receiving worship, which was the sole prerogative of the gods, was both arrogant and dangerous—but to no avail. She only hoped that her unwillingness and their ignorance would be enough to placate Esperial wrath.

The next day Terra had a general feeling of malaise. She had recovered from her magical exertion only to fall victim to the islanders' wine, which they had insisted on her drinking in excess. Calogrent had the same problem, for he was pained by the daylight and even the suggestion of food. Edgar, on the other hand, seemed perfectly well and satisfied, appearing from the door of a hut where he had apparently slept. (Terra and Calogrent had each slept where they had been sitting the night before, due to the wine and the fact that the natives feared to touch them.) With a clearer head, Terra might have wondered about Edgar's sleeping arrangements.

"Shall we see how the ship is faring, my dear?" said Edgar with unusual smugness. He laughed in a way that was quite unpleasant to Terra (probably due to her hangover).

Most of the islanders were still asleep when Terra, Calogrent, and Edgar left the village.

"It will give them the impression that we just disappeared," said Calogrent, "which will confirm their conviction that you're a goddess, Terra."

"Oh, stop it," said Terra, smiling. Calogrent's sense of humor reminded her of Locke. She thought about Locke the whole way back to the beach; she wondered what he was doing and prayed for his safety.

When they reached the beach they found the ship's boat waiting for them, along with a few Returners.

"The _Mercuria_ is seaworthy again, King Edgar. We're ready to set sail," said the first mate.

"Good, good," said Edgar, taking his place in the boat. Terra couldn't figure it out, but there was something repulsive about Edgar today.

As they got in and pulled away from the shore, a native girl wearing a bridal wreath emerged from the trees and ran down to the beach. She shouted at them and then stood at the water's edge.

"Shall we turn back, King Edgar?" said the first mate.

Edgar blushed with shame and averted his eyes. "No," he said in an undertone. "Just keep going."

Terra was outraged on behalf of her sex. But Edgar didn't dare meet her eyes. She looked back and watched the poor girl on the beach, who had crumpled in despair and was weeping into her hands. The broken wreath floated carelessly on the water. Terra considered turning Edgar into a pig.

"What could I have done, my dear?" said Edgar, once they were back on the ship.

"I'm not your 'dear'!" said Terra hotly. "Your 'dear' is back on the island where you left her! You could have brought her with you or—here's an idea!—not slept with her in the first place! Did it even occur to you that in her mind and according to their law, you are now her husband?"

The color had drained out of his face. He begged her to keep her voice down, saying that he was nobility, after all, and had a title to think about.

"The noble should _act_ nobly," Terra retorted. "And when they don't, they can be called to account."

"But...I...I was drunk...and...I'll send money!" said Edgar desperately.

"You were drunk and you'll send money? Listen to yourself. You're talking like a fool."

"But...my dear—I mean, Terra...what do you expect from me?"

"More," said Terra with a note of finality that indicated the conversation had reached its end.

Just then Sabin appeared, and said, "Still up to your old tricks, brother?" He said it with just the right degree of condescension that Terra did not accuse him of making light of the situation, though underneath of course there still lay the bonds of brotherly affection.

At this point Edgar bowed out with a sheepish promise "to be better." Terra's wrath abated and she began to regain her composure.

This was the first time that she and Sabin had a chance to speak alone since they met. She wished it could have been under calmer circumstances. Nevertheless, when he made to leave, she said, "Wait! I want to talk with you."

He stopped, a little surprised, and turned back to her. She realized that that had come out more forcefully than she would have hoped.

"I mean," she said, in a softer tone, "I'd like to get to know you." That too sounded a bit forward.

"Okay," said Sabin, willingly but apparently taken off guard. They sat down together on deck and talked. It must have seemed a strange and lonely sight: the "witch" and the wandering martial artist.

"I can see that you don't yet trust me, though Banon and your brother have enlisted my help," she said. "I don't blame you for that, for I can only imagine the stories you've heard about me, and I can only guess how many of them are true." With that, Terra told Sabin her story, as far back as she could remember, beginning with Arvis' cave up to South Figaro, where she mistook Sabin for his brother, and how she, Locke, and Edgar journeyed north to the Sabil Mountains, where she joined Banon and the Returners. Sabin sat Indian-style and listened to the whole tale with interest.

"I now believe that you are truly no friend to the Empire, or else we are all bewitched. But there is wisdom in Banon and (though it may seem otherwise at times) in my brother too, and so I believe you are a trustworthy and a might ally." They shook hands. The formality of the speech and gesture was not cold; it intensified rather than diminished the feeling conveyed—namely, a pledge of friendship.

Sabin then related to her a brief history of his movements, beginning with his childhood in Figaro Castle, but passing over a certain subject that he seemed unready to speak about. "Many years ago, my brother and I had a sharp dispute and parted company. I renounced my title and went in search of vengeance against the Empire. I was half-dead when Master Duncan found me. He took me to his school on Mount Kolts and trained me in martial arts, and he taught me to master my anger.

"I studied there for many years and surpassed all other students, even kohai older than myself. Sadly, envy grew in the heart of Master Duncan's oldest student, his only son. One day, while sparring, he attacked me with all his might and used fatal strikes which are forbidden. Had it not been for Master Duncan's training, I would surely have died, but none of his blows landed on the fatal points.

"Master Duncan stepped in and overpowered his son, who was banished from the dojo and forbidden to use or teach the mountain-style of fighting. Dishonored, the son left and never returned. I too felt that it was time that I leave the school. I departed with Master Duncan's blessing.

"Some time later I heard of the Returners and sought them out. I met Banon and have been a Returner ever since."

Thus they talked well into the evening. Calogrent and Kaye joined them, but Edgar did not appear that day. Guided by the stars, the _Mercuria_ sped through the waves eastward. Weeks later the lookout shouted, "Land ho!" and the coast of the Eastern Continent came into view. At last the Returners disembarked.


	25. Part 2, Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

THE PHANTOM TRAIN

From the first moment Terra set foot on shore she had a strong feeling that they were entering upon wild lands. She could not have said why—not yet, anyway—but her eyes involuntarily scanned the forlorn trees and the broad, flat, brown wastes of the Eastern plains.

"What are you looking for?" asked Calogrent, joining her. The other Returners were busy unloading the _Mercuria_.

"I don't know," said Terra.

"Not a very inviting place, is it?" he said. She made no answer.

Despite her foreboding, nothing of any real consequence happened as the Returners journeyed southeastward over the plains. Once, when the wind was dead, one of the horses got spooked by a rattlesnake in the tall grass. It whinnied and reared—thankfully, no one was riding it at the time—and upset some vultures and a flock of crows scavenging a large animal carcass, which circled angrily overhead before settling down again on their feast once the company had passed. Another time, the Returners were followed for a few miles by a pride of lions, which was unnerving (to say the least), but nothing came of it. Every night when they set up camp, they set watch-fires around the perimeter and rotating guards.

It was hot, to be sure, but they never went long without water, and wild game there was in abundance. Sometimes they had to scare jackals and hyenas away from the watering holes. And there were flash rains and thunderstorms, some of them severe. It was a great comfort to Terra to move with so large a company.

And all this time Terra grew closer to Sabin, who turned out, as she first suspected, to have an innate gentleness about him that could not be eradicated by the harshness of his past (of which Terra learned no more than what he'd told her on the ship). She had forgiven Edgar, who found, to his relief, that she was as quick to forgive as she was to anger. He still seemed to lack self-knowledge, though, as he could not for the life of him seem to understand why she preferred Sabin and Calogrent's company over his, she having known them for so comparatively short a time.

"Do you still not understand?" said Terra.

Edgar did not answer, however, for to continue the conversation and admit his jealousy would have required a degree of candor which he was incapable of.

I should also tell you that Terra attempted to use magic during this time. Nothing should be easier, she thought, than setting some dead, dry grass on fire in this heat. She tried only at night and only when she was by herself. The first couple of attempts only ended in frustration, but the third night, after a long time of murmuring, pleading, commanding, and praying, a handful of grass ignited under her hand. She quickly withdrew it before she burned herself, gave a short celebratory cry, and covered her mouth and looked around to see if anyone had noticed.

Thereafter she made several more trials, each time succeeding in causing a clump of grass to burst into flame. But it was tiring work, and the more she did it the more she felt that Dread Approach. Moreover, she felt that unless it served some purpose—which it didn't, as the Returners were well equipped to start fires by natural means—then it was somehow...meddlesome and capricious. So, content for now, she ceased practicing.

It was not until the end of their journey across the plains that Terra's foreboding proved to have some foundation. Before them the mountains rose up on either side, forcing them, if they were to continue, into the dark forest that lay in the valley. The Returners had crossed a great river on a wide, stone bridge which bore the unmistakable tracks of magitek tanks (unmistakable, that is, to Edgar; they looked to Terra like the tracks of some giant, three-toed bird of prey).

Edgar was kneeling to examine them. "You can be sure that imperial soldiers have been this way," he said, "and recently."

Just then a scout on a Chocobo came charging at full speed from behind, jumped off his bird, and ran up to Banon. "A troop of imperial soldiers is heading this way! Magitek tanks and about two hundred infantry!" A murmur rippled through the company. This announcement produced mixed results. Some men wanted to turn and fight, while others said that sixty against two hundred (plus the tanks) were hopeless odds, and that they should flee.

Terra overheard Banon arguing with Syan, the man with the eye-patch whose people Kefka had poisoned.

"I would not enter that forest by any means," said Syan in a gruff voice. "Especially not when I have a chance to kill Kefka."

Banon looked menacing. "Fool!" he growled. "We go to fight Kefka in Narsha. If we stay here, we will be destroyed. How then will you avenge your family?"

At last Syan conceded, and not a moment too soon, for behind them in the distance a dark mass came into view. It was the Empire! Terra heard a dull pop and then, moments later, a tree exploded somewhere nearby. It was a deafening noise, and dirt and splinters rained down on them. Terra was disoriented.

"Into the trees!" cried Banon. Most did not have to be told, but Terra, frozen on the spot by the tremendous explosion, was grabbed by Calogrent and Sabin.

"Come on!" they said, and led her, at a run, into the forest. Before they entered, Terra heard the distant popping again, followed by more explosions nearby. Once inside the trees, however, the explosions immediately died down, as if they now came from another world.

Somewhere in the trees she heard Banon cry, "Don't get separated!" But that was the last she heard of him. Edgar tried to return his call (for Edgar was with them, Terra now perceived), but there was no answer.

"Don't bother," said a gruff voice in a hushed tone. It was Syan. That made five. No one else could be seen. "Don't bother," said Syan, "no one will hear you. This forest is treacherous; it chokes the sound of one's voice and separates friends."

Indeed, though Syan was only a few feet away when he spoke, his voice was subdued. Terra felt as if she was going deaf. The dark trees absorbed all noise and dimmed the light. Her ears were ringing, as if to fill up the immense silence that had fallen.

"We will all go together," said Edgar in as loud a voice as he could muster. "No one must go beyond sight of the others."

Syan, Edgar, Sabin, Terra, and Calogrent moved slowly and in a tightly-packed group deeper into the woods. It seemed that the further in they went, the more the silence was absolute. Terra wondered how it was possible for the forest to reduce a group of sixty to five, without their seeing a single one of their companions, or finding a single footprint. It was uncanny. There was no wind, no birdsong, nothing—not even the sound of their footfalls. The silence pressed upon them until one had to shout into another's ear to be heard. All this filled Terra with fear.

"Stop it!" screamed Terra. And for a moment, the silence gave way a little. Terra's cry had been fully audible, and seemed to create a small sphere in which they could speak freely for a moment. But whether they moved outside that sphere or the weight of silence crushed it, the trees threw back Terra's voice, diminishing and echoing, "Stop it!" several times in rapid succession within that small space, before snuffing it out. The soundlessness was just as thick and impenetrable as before.

Consequently, no one was inclined to speak, and so all were left to his or her thoughts. It might have driven Terra mad if she had been alone. But despite the comfort of company, she did not look forward to nightfall, when they would be not only deaf and dumb, but blind. How would they prevent their separation then? If they lay down and didn't move an inch until first light, would the very ground they slept on move each of them forever beyond reach—beyond hope!—of the others? Terra prayed with her whole heart that the Espers would have mercy on them, that they would not allow her to be lost in these woods, to die, unsung, unloved, her life unlived! Who knows but that her fear was part of the enchantment?

At any rate, Terra did not have to spend the night in this Accursed Forest (as it was ever afterwards called), but whether the boon was better than the bane remains to be seen.

Through the impassable silence came a long, clear, high whistle. As far as she could remember, Terra had never heard the like before, unless it was a giant kettle. The Returners stopped and turned towards one another. Edgar said something which Terra didn't hear.

"What?" she mouthed to him.

Edgar leaned over and spoke into her ear: "It sounds like a train. A locomotive."

Terra had heard of such machines before but (as far as she knew) had never seen one. There again came the call. They nodded in agreement and moved towards the direction of the sound.

Before long, Terra and her companions saw a black train through the trees, partly concealed by the density of the forest, partly shrouded by a mist which made it appear slightly obscured. As they approached she saw that the mist came from the front car, which spouted long streams of it whenever the call went out. The whistle came now at shorter intervals, and (inexplicably) all of them were seized with the impulse to reach the train before it departed.

Thus they ran towards it, forgetting caution, and (altogether, thankfully) reached a stair leading up to a tiled platform. Their feet echoed on the steps as they leapt up them.

Up close the dark locomotive looked eerily translucent. Fog poured out of the spout atop the front car and crept down the sides and over the floor of the platform. The train tracks faded into nothing a few yards in front of the engine...

Just then Terra thought she heard voices down a ways on the platform. But when she looked all she saw was a line of eerie lampposts, which, rather than giving off light, seemed to take it away. They cast a shadow beneath them. Terra stared hard at the lampposts, at first seeing nothing, but then all at once she perceived shapes moving beneath them. They were the shapes of humans boarding the train.

A last, long, urgent call issued from the train. It was now or never. Almost the same instant, Terra thought she saw two familiar forms pass through the shadow.

"Arvis? Locke?"

The train began to move. She turned back to her companions just in time to see Syan cry, "Wait!" in desperation and jump aboard. The next thing she knew, all of them had followed him into the car. The door slid shut behind them, and, with a triumphant and haunting blast of the whistle, the train moved away from the station.


	26. Part 2, Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

NEXT STOP?

She sat by the window even though she couldn't see out of it clearly, what with the darkness and the steam and the speed of the train. She was trying to remember something terribly important, but as luck would have it, it eluded her. She suspected that it was the name of her stop, but that didn't seem very important—if she missed it, she could always get off at the next one. Couldn't she? Perhaps the name was on her ticket. But where was her ticket? She must have dropped it under her seat. No, it wasn't there. Perhaps in the aisle? No, not there either.

_I_ _hope no one asks to see my ticket_, she thought, continuing to search the immediate area. _But what was it that was so terribly important?_ She didn't know. But she had a nagging notion that if she didn't figure it out in time, she'd be in trouble.

What made matters worse was that there was an obnoxious man who kept trying to make eye contact with her. He sat a couple of seats ahead on the other side of the aisle and kept turning around and looking at her. He had long blonde hair, tied back, and a broad, muscular build.

"Oh great, he's getting up," she said to herself, turning towards the window and discontinuing her search for her ticket.

"Is this seat taken, my dear?" said the man.

She sighed. "I guess not."

"It's a shame to see a beautiful young woman going on a long journey by herself."

"I'm not on a long journey," she said shortly. "Listen: while you're here you can help me look for my ticket. I think I dropped it."

"I would be delighted," he replied.

Thus they began searching the whole car for her ticket, under seats, in the aisle, overhead in the baggage rack.

They were searching on their hands and knees when the man said, "By the way, may I have the pleasure of your name?"

Exasperated, the woman replied, "I don't know! I'm sure it's on the ticket!"

There was a pause. "You don't know your own name?" he said in a note of alarm which caused her to sit up. They stared at each other in horror. Then finally:

"Edgar!"

"Terra!"

It all came back to them, and they jumped to their feet.

"I'm afraid we've been under a spell, my dear," said Edgar.

"Yes," said Terra, "We've wasted so much time. We have to get off this train!"

"Certainly. Where are the others?"

"They're not here?"

"They don't appear to be in this car."

"Then we have to go look for them," she said with great urgency, but had not yet moved. "But shouldn't we find my ticket first?"

"Yes, of course!"

They searched again, this time even more desperately than before. Again he asked her her name, and they came to their senses.

"Edgar, King of Figaro," said Terra, "Who am I?"

"Captain Terra Bradford."

"Edgar, I think we have to keep talking to each other. Otherwise we'll slip back under the spell."

"Okay, Terra, my dear. Now lead the way."

Thus they went in search of their friends, talking about their travels and reminding each other who they were. And it grew easier to master themselves as they went.

They went from car to car towards the engine. The cold blast of wind they met between the train cars did much to keep them lucid.

The first two cars they passed through appeared to be empty, though, truth be told, whether it had been two or two hundred, they had no idea. But eventually they reached an occupied car.

"Wait!" said Terra. She and Edgar had just entered and shut the door behind them. This car, like all the cars on this train, left something to be desired with regard to lighting.

"What do you see, my dear?" asked Edgar.

Terra looked and saw a ghostly figure sitting at the other end of the car, semi-transparent when she looked at it directly, invisible to her peripheral vision. Now Edgar saw it too. They approached slowly and cautiously. The Shade was sitting with her back to them.

When Terra was close enough to get a better look, she saw a dim blue light where the Shade's heart should be. The light of her soul illuminated the Shade from the inside and caused her form to be visible. But her soul was so weak that it projected her image faintly and made her difficult to see. She looked rather cold and unsubstantial. Moreover, the light was not diffused proportionately throughout, so her head was fainter than her middle, and her legs faded into nothing.

When the Shade saw Terra and Edgar, she looked them up and down, rolled her eyes, scoffed, and turned away sulkily. Her soul fluttered so passionately that, at times, it looked to Terra as if the Shade had disappeared.

Bewildered, Terra and Edgar moved on. When they entered the next car (if indeed it was the very next car; it might have been an infinite number of cars later), they saw more Shades. The Shades varied in transparency. Some were nearly invisible—some _were_ invisible, all but their faint spirits—others were fully formed, but dark as if under a shadow. Terra felt a chill and shuddered. She had a feeling that these were bad characters, and so she quickened their pace, sensing that they were being watched by unfriendly eyes.

At some point they found Calogrent. He was sitting by himself, bemused.

"Calogrent!" cried Terra. The spell was broken. He jumped to his feet and they all continued towards the back of the train.

At another time they found Sabin, but whether they had found Sabin or Calogrent first no one remembered, not so much because of bad memory as because on this train time worked differently—and, like infants, they had not yet got their bearings.

It was a terrifying sight—finding Sabin. (Terra felt an evil presence in the room the moment they entered.) They found Sabin in a dining car, in a private cabin with a long dining table set for a banquet. Sabin was running frantically back and forth, threshing the table with his mighty arms, knocking the wine glasses to the floor, and yelling, "The wine is poison, Father! It's poison!" All Sabin's efforts were in vain, because for each glass that he broke upon the floor, another appeared to replace it. The carpet was covered in broken glass and red wine like blood.

They tried to subdue him, but Sabin overpowered them all and went on futilely sweeping the table with his arms and breaking the glasses. Then, in the middle of Sabin's rage, a figure appeared sitting at the head of the table.

"Father?" Edgar said. "It can't be!"

Sabin dropped to his knees (on the broken glass) and pled with the ghost: "Father, please stop! Don't drink the poison!"

But the figure of their father raised a glass to his lips, drank, dropped it the floor, and proceeded to die a gruesome death, vomiting and jerking in spasms of pain. Then it disappeared and the horrific scene began again, now with both brothers knocking the glasses off the table, heedlessly running into each other with great violence. Blood ran down Sabin's legs from the shards of glass embedded in his knees.

Terra wept and prayed desperately to prevent the twins from killing themselves. When the evil spirit showed itself again to drive the brothers further into madness, Terra reached out her hand and cried, "AWAY, EVIL SPIRIT! BE GONE!" The power of her voice was deafening. A mighty blast of wind accompanied the sound; which swept off the entire contents of the table, including the tablecloth, once for all; and caused the phantom to vanish in an instant with a loud bang; but not before it showed its true form, that of a hideous demon in the likeness of a boar.

The brothers, free from so great an evil, embraced as if for the first time. Edgar pulled the shards out of his brother's knees and bandaged them. Sabin had lost some blood and was a little sore for walking—he walked by the support of his brother—but had sustained no serious injuries.

"I'm afraid some demon has been playing tricks on me," said Sabin.

After this the Returners were on their guard. And they needed to be. After the party had passed through who-knows-how-many cars, Calogrent whispered to Terra.

"Looks like we picked up a friend," he said ironically.

Terra looked behind and noticed a Shade following them at a distance. His soul was in his belly and his upper portion was only just visible, and only for a moment. But in that moment Terra noticed something familiar...and grotesque. There was a knife in his head.

"Let's just keep moving forward," she said. "Maybe he'll stop."

But not only did the Shade keep following, but it was joined by three more. And now they were getting close.

"My dear," said Edgar, "Any chance of your deterring those ghosts with your particular talents?" Of the whole party, Edgar seemed to be the one who was most apprehensive.

"I don't know. Maybe," she said. "It kind of comes and goes."

"Any sign of Syan?" said Sabin. Terra had almost forgotten about him.

The four Shades seemed all to have died violently. One's throat was cut, another was slashed across the middle as with a broadsword. Still Terra couldn't think how they were familiar.

The Returners, still with the ghosts in tentative pursuit, were stopped short in the middle of a train car when a demon appeared—the boar-faced demon that had tormented the twins—in front of them, blocking their way.


	27. Part 2, Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

HOW THEY GOT OFF

With the demon ahead and the shades behind, Terra, Calogrent, Edgar, and Sabin took a defensive stance in the aisle. They stood back to back, with Terra and Edgar facing forward and the other two opposite. There was little room to fight, and, anyway, they had no idea if their weapons would have any effect.

The four shades that Terra saw when she looked over her shoulder approached confidently now, and threateningly, writhing like smoke. And the monstrous, hungry form of the boar-like demon ahead filled her with trembling. Her heart beat rapidly, and she began muttering some prayer without having any idea what she was saying.

At a look from the wer-boar, a hideous grin, Terra's skin began to crawl. She looked down. She was covered with insects! She was instantly thrown into a state of panic, screaming, scratching, and batting at her skin. She had just enough presence of mind, however, to notice the laughter of the shades, and also that her companions were panicking too. But there was nothing on them. Terra looked again and found that it was only a trick of the mind; there were no spiders or worms on her. But the others—they were thrashing and flailing about with weapons in their hands.

"Stop it!" cried Terra to her friends. But it was no use. Edgar spun around; his sword glanced Calogrent's head by accident, just as Calogrent in turn slashed Sabin's arm. Terra dove aside onto the seats. Sabin was first to recognize the real danger, and, in two fluid movements, disarmed both men and arrested his brother in a hold.

About the same time, the cruel laughter stopped abruptly when the forward door slid open. A light filled the car. Terra looked over the seats and saw a Bright Figure standing in the doorway.

All five shades were smitten by its brightness, and fled (or vanished) with parting whimpers of defeat.

"What mischief is here?" said the Bright One. His voice was a delight to the ear, like the delight of listening to music, though he didn't sing, and Terra couldn't imagine that the sound could be improved by any instrumental accompaniment. "What mischief is here?" he said.

Terra stood up in the aisle, the better to behold him. He shone with a certain glory, illuminated by the light of his mind. He was clearly not a living man, but he was so bright and solid that to call him a "shade" would be ridiculous. Compared with him, Terra and her companions were mere wraiths.

He approached. "I see that the Wisps have been playing tricks on you; they are a spiteful bunch." He spoke of them as naughty children, and the innate joy in his voice at once emptied Terra of all fear. She felt as she had not felt in living memory, unless it had been the peace of living with Arvis. Arvis! Had she not seen Locke and Arvis board the train as shades?

"Sir," Terra said tentatively, "We are still living. I mean"—the thought of so distinguishing herself from one so brimming over with Life was absurd—"I mean, we haven't yet died. Could you tell us how to get off this train? And also, sir, could you tell us if anyone we know is aboard?"

"I've found one other man still in his first flesh. I'll take you to him, and then we'll see about getting you on your way. But first, we should attend to your friends."

Terra only now remembered them. She turned and saw that Calogrent and Sabin were bleeding, Calogrent from a gash in his head, Sabin from his arm. Calogrent's wound wasn't fatal, but he was bleeding profusely. All the color had drained out of his face, and he appeared to be on the verge of unconsciousness. Sabin was holding his arm. They had all been struck with amazement.

Calogrent put his hand to his head. Edgar launched into a barrage of apologies and tore off a strip of shirt to bandage Calogrent's head, while Terra helped him sit down. Sabin could take care of himself. While Edgar wrapped Calogrent's head, Terra put her hands on him and prayed that his wound close. He stared vacantly ahead, and then lost consciousness. His head lolled to one side. Alarmed, Terra held his head and continued to speak in a hushed tone while Edgar finished.

Then another set of hands were laid on Calogrent. Terra's mind cleared and her heart opened up. Together, Terra felt her own efforts redoubled and the power increase exponentially. There were two surges of light and all wounds were closed. The color returned to Calogrent's face and he awoke; Sabin's arm and legs were healed.

"Now let's see about your other friend," said the Bright One, and then, adding with some gravity, "I'm afraid his is a more difficult case."

They followed in the dazzling, resplendent train of the Bright Man and had no fear. If Terra had been allowed to follow him until the end of time, that would have been fine by her. But then they found Syan.

They found him in a private car, in an empty room, sitting down in a corner. His head was bowed almost as if he were asleep, except that, upon closer inspection, his mouth was moving. It seems impossible to say that he had slumped down in the shadows, for the room was so filled with light that at first Terra had a hard time seeing anything at all.

Indeed, when her eyes adjusted to the light, the first shapes she saw were those of Bright People, each as luminous as their guide. They seemed not to move but to dance, though they were not dancing, and their gaiety brought tears to Terra's eyes. Many of them seemed to be children, though such wisdom dwelled in their faces that their age was out of all reckoning. The only thing that kept her from joining hands with them was pity—pity for Syan.

Their light seemed not to be able to touch him, if such a thing were possible. Syan choked a sob and his mouth continued to move, despite the fact that a Bright Woman was kneeling beside him and trying to console him. Terra had to move closer to hear what he said.

"How I hate that villain, Kefka! The goddamned murderer. I hate him for...for my poor family. How shall I ever see them again? The damned fiend! I only thank the gods for restoring my sight so that I could have my vengeance. So that I could avenge my family!"

And all the time the Bright Woman was saying, though he seemed neither able to see nor hear her, "No, my love, don't fill your heart with such thoughts. You'll make it hard and brittle. Of course you weren't given your sight to do any such thing. You must forgive him, my love, not for his sake but for yours. You'll destroy yourself if you go on like this!" Indeed, he was already beginning to look a little thin and wraith-like.

Terra wept. "Can't anything be done for him?" she cried, turning to the Bright Man.

"Only what you see being done for him already," he said.

"Is some demon tormenting him?"

"No, not now; what you see is the sin of his own heart, and that cannot be removed without his consent. If it were a mere matter of some Wisp playing tricks on him, it would be easy, but, as I warned you, this is a more serious matter."

"Do you think he could hear me?" Terra said.

"You can try."

"Syan," she pled, kneeling down to him, "you must let go of your hatred. Your family is safe and happy. They're here. Come back to us."

He stirred and lifted his head for a moment, as if he heard something. He looked at Terra and seemed to see her for a moment (or so she thought ever afterwards), but then it was as if he was looking past her, or through her, to a great distance. His head sunk to his chest and didn't rise again.

"Can we try to pick him up?" she suggested.

Edgar and Sabin got on either side of him to try to lift him, but their hands merely passed through him. There was nothing to get a hold of.

"Will he stay like this forever? Where does this train go?" Terra asked the Bright Man, as she and her friends left Syan to the efforts of the other Bright Ones.

"As long he remains inconsolable his family will stay with him," said the Bright Man. "It is no burden for them, for it is ever the desire of Light to illuminate. And it is our Father's will not to tell us which shadows will give way, not until the Great Transition. He may yet be returned to you.

"I'm afraid I must speak in riddles. How can I describe the Things Above without leading those in their first flesh into error? It is a difficult thing, and dangerous. Knowledge carries great responsibility, and even the good and the wise are yet given only glimpses. And yet, glimpses are allowed, for they are harbingers of hope, little unveilings to precede and foretell the Great Unveiling of Him-Whose-Name-Is-Yet-To-Be-Given-To-Men.

"I tell you the truth," the Bright Man continued, "some of you in your first flesh will live to see one such of these unveilings. And one of you will be chosen to go before Him as His forerunner."

"Are you Him of whom you speak?" asked Terra.

"I am not," he replied. "I am a fellow servant with you and all who love Him, though you do not yet know His name."

Terra was at once filled with humility and courage. She would need it for what lay ahead, for who but the gods know whether she would have survived that Dread Arrival she had long feared had it not been for those provisions of strength and fellowship, measured out to her all through the course of her quest?

The next thing she knew, Terra found herself in a field of tall grass on the edge of the Accursed Forest. With her were Edgar, Sabin, and Calogrent. Syan they never saw again, though Terra remembered him in her prayers. They appeared to have come out on the southern end of the wood—alone, for the other Returners had either fallen behind or gone ahead...or had been lost.

They wasted no time. The Returners set out southeast for Mobliz. Edgar maintained ever afterwards that the whole episode had been a dream or a shared delusion, though his argument quite pointedly failed to account for the injuries they had sustained.


	28. Part 2, Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

MOBLIZ

The party traveled many months, and crossed mountain, wood, river, and plain, before they reached the city of Mobliz. They had encountered none of their former company, though they had reason to hope: tracks and discarded items led them to believe that a fairly large company had passed that way, which Sabin judged not to have been imperial.

"Though it's not as big a group as ours was before it fled into the Forest," he said. The general spirit was dampened.

There was only one notable event. One evening after a chill rain (for it was autumn now), when everyone was cold and miserable and no one could get the fire started—the twins' bickering reminded Terra of Edgar and Locke's fight now so long ago—Terra performed the one feat she had mastered.

"Will you just give them to me, already?" said Edgar.

"I know how to start a fire, brother!" retorted Sabin.

"Clearly! I only ask that you condescend to allow me the honor of practicing under the supervision of one whose pyrotechnic accomplishments far exceed—"

Terra walked over and set the wet tinder ablaze with a wave of the hand, then stood looking at the dumbstruck twins. Everyone burst into laughter.

When at last they reached Mobliz, they took special care to escape notice. Edgar, much travel-worn already, had only to cover his shield and regalia. Terra on the other hand had to wear a disguise. Calogrent and Sabin went into town and brought back a hat and boys' clothes for her to wear. She went into the trees to change. She tucked her long hair up into the hat and wrapped her chest tightly. The tunic and breeches, though made for boys, were loose-fitting. She wondered how well her sex was disguised and very much wished for a mirror—for this was great fun!

When she returned she met looks of surprise and delight from the men.

Calogrent laughed. "Now you can be my kid brother!" he said.

Edgar looked both amused and bewildered. This caused Terra to smile.

"Now you'll have to be careful how you look at me in public," she said to him. Everyone chuckled, including Edgar.

Then they went into the city. They could tell at once that the place was astir with agitation and excitement. Everyone seemed to be on the street. Men took long strides, boys ran from house to house with news, women snatched their children up in their arms lest they, too, think about going to war (for war, indeed, was the news). Some men argued, others armed themselves (such as they could) and joined the throng in the street.

Now they moved with the crowd, which seemed all to be going in the same direction. Terra got jostled a bit.

"Watch it, kid!" said one man as he ran right into her, almost knocking her down. After this she kept one hand on her hat—for some of her hair had come loose—and followed closely behind Edgar and Sabin.

Finally they reached the town square, where they were greatly relieved to find many familiar faces. The Returners—apparently diminished in number—were standing at the bottom of an amphitheatre. Benches of stone cut into the hill led down to a pavement, on which there rose a wooden platform. On this platform two men were arguing, one whose titanic shape and leonine features clearly revealed his identity. Banon! He had escaped the treacherous Forest after all!

Beyond the pavement of the amphitheatre the ground fell into the sea. Dozens of ships lay anchored in the harbor. The steady sea breeze carried Banon and the other man's voices up the hill.

"How long do you think it will be before the Empire comes to Mobliz?" said Banon fiercely, leaving off his argument with the other man and, in his rage, addressing the people in a loud voice. "The Emperor and his dog, Kefka, will conquer every last city and kingdom in Middan Erd at this rate! How long will it be before your people are strangled with taxes, your daughters raped, your sons broken under the yoke of slavery? How long will Mobliz stand before Emperor Gestaul sweeps it away with a mere wave of his hand?

"No, I tell you: now is the time to go to war! If Middan Erd would ever be free of the Arch-Tyrant, we must make our stand. We have fighting-men from Jidoor to Thamasa! We have the king of Figaro! We have the Emperor's iron scepter, the Witch and Magitek Knight, Captain Terra!"

At the mention of her name, the crowd gasped. Terra saddened at her designations.

"The Witch will win the Esper in Narshe to our cause," Banon went on with increasing vehemence. "and then we will have a god to fight for us!"

There was an uproar. The people were seized with fear and amazement. It was followed by outbursts of all kinds: doubts, cheers, protestations, and cries of war.

"Show us King Figaro! Show us the Witch! Give us a sign to lend credence to your proud boasts!"

Things might have gone very differently for the Returners had Banon not spotted Edgar and Sabin and ordered his men to let them through.

"Where have you been all this time?" said Banon, taking them aside for a moment. "Where is the Captain?"

"I'm here," said Terra.

Banon looked at her with surprise and, smiling as if a victory had been won, he turned to the crowd. "Do you want to see the king?" he said in a booming voice.

The crowd shouted approval.

"Then look!" he cried. Edgar stepped forward, travel-weary to be sure, but more kingly in his gait than any lowborn man. And when he uncovered his shining shield, with its bright story and insignia (the bear and leopard rampant), no man dared to mock. Even Terra's heart thrilled a little to see him in his kingliness, and all memory of his ignoble deeds was momentarily forgotten. The crowd was one riot of applause.

"And now will you look upon the Emperor's Red Terror?" Banon proclaimed. The crowd went dead silent with horror and expectation. Terra was struck with a wave of nausea in anticipation of the moment when all eyes would fall on her.

Nevertheless, Terra breathlessly stepped forward and took her place next to Edgar, removed her hat, and shook out her hair.

She had never heard such cries before. Utter terror gripped the crowd. There were screams, shouts, and mad cries. It seemed that they had forgotten that she was on their side. Men raised their weapons, women fled with their children, and general pandemonium ensued, as if fire was about to rain down from the heavens and the earth swallow them up.

The danger was palpable, and Terra felt it. But then, with a kind of fatherly or patriarchal power, Banon raised his hand. As he lowered it the crowd returned to their seats the noise fell to a murmur.

When all had returned to silence again, Banon, in a subdued tone which in its way carried more might than his mightiest voice, said, "Now, with such might, how can we not stand in Narsha? Now is the time for war."

There was never a chance for a counterargument. The decision was made. It was war. The men rose and went to the ships.

Thus Terra was again on the open sea with the Returners, only this time they were accompanied by a fleet of ships. Her heart was emboldened by the sight, for though they were few in actual fact, they made a show of might. Terra stood at the prow and took the full force of the wind, her hair flaming like windborn fire. Onward to the north the sailors fared.

When at last Banon, Edgar, and Terra had a chance to speak, they found, when they did their reckonings, that a fortnight had past while Terra and her friends had been aboard the Phantom Train, though it only seemed to them a few hours. Banon lamented the loss of Syan, but otherwise appeared to be unmoved by their story. There seemed to be no catching places in his mind for so selly and marvelous a tale, whether because mortality and immortality was too deep-rooted in nature, or because _he_ was.

At any rate Banon and Edgar continued to take Terra into their counsels; and the ship continued to ply, Narshe-bound, towards a destiny no one could guess, carrying a lovely freight whose value no mortal mind could estimate.


	29. Part 2, Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THE END OF A VOYAGE

The sea was vast and the voyage hard. I wish I could say that all the ships that set out from Mobliz reached the shores of Narshe, but there were tempests and squalls, and more than a few sunk beneath the waves. More than a few sailors perished too, before they could be rescued by the other ships. One such lost seaman was Calogrent's friend Kaye, whose death grieved him sorely.

The ardor with which the men of Mobliz had taken to the sea slackened, and there were groans and grievances, threats of mutiny (which turned out to be empty), and whispers of turning back. And indeed, it seemed to Terra not all the ships that failed to finish the voyage could be accounted for by shipwreck.

Needless to say, their hearts were heavy, though many held fast, perhaps because when they searched for hope among the merciless waves, their eyes fell on the lead ship and thought of Terra, and were comforted. She hoped so—not for her glory, but for their sake.

But at last they caught a tailwind, and, bearing north-northwest, the fleet rode it out until they saw the snowy peaks of mountains rise up out of the sea. Upon reaching the mountainous coast, they kept it on the portside and continued north. At points the sea cliffs were sheer, and cast a dreadful shadow over the fleet when the sun sank in the evening. In the twilight, the shadows made ominous shapes of the rocks and tricked the mind with visions of ugly giants and trolls, scowling upon the errant ships. Their chins were cut out of the rock, where centuries of waves perhaps wore away and loosened great quantities of stone.

"The men are frightened," scoffed Edgar to Terra one evening, as they stood on deck looking at the rocks. "They think there are giants among the rocks, caught and frozen by the sight of dawn. They're afraid they'll wake up at dark and hurl boulders at us."

"Perhaps there are," replied Terra, playing the advocate.

Edgar smiled. "You don't really think so, do you, my dear? It's just a trick of light and shadow."

"No, I don't think there are giants. But I don't have any reason not to, other than that such shadows haven't turned out to be giants before. But that doesn't prove anything. If at night you see something that looks like a snake and a hundred times turns out to be a stick, that doesn't mean that the hundred and first won't be a real snake. All that proves is that there are more sticks than snakes."

"True," said Edgar.

"And even if there are no giants, that doesn't mean that these shapes aren't meant as warnings," Terra went on, taking a more serious position.

"'Meant'? Meant by whom? Surely no man could climb those perilous cliffs—and to what purpose? To ward off ships from landing where it is impossible to land and where no one lives?"

"No, surely not men."

"The gods, then?" said Edgar, not without sarcasm.

"Why not?" replied Terra.

"Because, for all we know, we could be the first to ever see these cliffs at this time of day and in this season. Few ships travel this way. No, my dear, I'm sure that if we better understood the effects of wind and rain over time, we'd find perfectly natural causes for this phenomena."

"I'm sure we would. But what does that prove? Even if we could trace the natural causes of them doesn't prove that the gods didn't _intend_ the rocks to be a warning to us. In the same way, if one understood all the principles of natural philosophy at work at the moment when a man shot an arrow, and if the arrow hit the target, one wouldn't have thereby proved that it happened by chance.

"The gods are said to be infinitely wise. Isn't it possible that, when Middan Erd was created, such care was taken in its making that we would see grim faces in the rocks thousands or hundreds of thousands of years later?"

Edgar looked surprised and delighted. "Where did you get this learning, my dear?" he said.

"I don't know," she replied. She had a serious interest in the argument. She must have been well-educated, but her zeal came from another source. She felt that its roots went down deep, and experienced a sensation somewhat similar to that which accompanied her using magic (though without the apprehension).

"But surely you don't think there is anything in these illusions?" Edgar pursued.

"No, I'm not certain there is," said Terra. "I only object to your certainty that there isn't."

Edgar didn't appear to be as interested in the argument as he was in her. Wisdom in a woman was something attractive to him. Terra didn't know what to think about that, nor about how lightly he seemed to take matters of philosophy. That perhaps was part of Terra's problem with him: he seemed to take serious matters lightly, and light matters seriously.

At any rate, they passed the cliffs without incident. The Returners sailed on, following the rim of the coast, which over the course of many months turned westward. All this time winter was progressing, and their northerly voyage led them into icy waters. The deck was blanketed in snow, and when Terra sat above-deck she was wrapped in a thick, white bear-fur. At last they left the open sea for a serpentine, inland river; between two endless mountain ranges; wide enough at its narrowest for two small ships to sail abreast; where, no doubt, some gigantic glacier made his winding way to the sea.

Often the wind was against them, as was the current, and the men had to row themselves to exhaustion and then drop anchor. They looked at Terra as if she were to blame, though if she had any power over the wind she didn't know it. Terra prayed for favorable winds, and sometimes it seemed to work, though she didn't feel Dread—at least no more than then than at another time. For now, the closer they got to Narshe, the more Terra felt the Approach of Her-Whom-She-Dare-Not-Meet. It became clear to her now, or she only just realized it, that this fearful feminine entity was a different thing than the Narshan Esper. She was near or inside; He was far away. She threatened to crush Terra's soul; He threatened to destroy her body. He possessed a shape, whereas She had yet to be given a form.

The fear of encountering these Beings, of certain knowledge of Arvis' fate, and perhaps Locke's, of imminent battle, and of fatal events and revelations—all these converging elements, swirling in the Chaos of Terra's ignorance, and growing ever larger on the horizon of her mind, filled her with anxiety. But governing all was courage—courage and wisdom, born over the course of her journey, which began in flight a twelvemonth and more from Narshe.

Narshe! How Terra feared you without knowing the reason, and how she, armed with might and power, now returns to you from whom she fled in weakness. How great are the events that unfolded upon that unlikely stage, and how little the players knew the weight of them, and Who was watching with divine vigilance. Narshe! Mountain-city, snow-dwellers, let Him Who gives men wit aid me in the telling of what passed within the white limits of your districts.

Terra's heart beat audibly when she stepped ashore, wrapped in her thick mantle. The snow reached her knees. It fell in feathery, slow flakes to the ground. It obscured the distance, and only the feet of the mountains could be seen. While the rest of the ships discharged their burdens, and Calogrent and Sabin walked their Chocobo down the plank, Edgar came and stood beside her, gazing ahead into the blizzard.

"I'm sure Locke is all right, my dear," he said. "He is made of tougher material than you think. He'll be here. He was sent to extract one of our people, a spy inside the empire on whom there was some suspicion."

Terra said nothing. She only prayed that Locke was safe, and Arvis too. Did she really live in peace with Arvis so long ago, or had that only been a pleasant dream? Was there ever a time before toil and strife? Would there ever be a time after it? She gazed on into the blizzard and inwardly commanded it to give up its secrets.

The Returners had landed on the ice that crept out from the shores on Narshe's outer limits. From here they would pass through one white valley, and then another, the mountains closing in on either side until at last they reached the mountain-couched city. The armed men of Mobliz, as well as many of the Returners, would then camp outside the city while the principals went in to speak to the rulers of Narshe.

Terra and Banon rode in front with Edgar and Sabin following behind, and Calogrent (at Terra's request). It was a journey of mere hours, but it felt to Terra like days. She did not slouch or hide her face, not even when the wind picked up, but sat erect, with queenly majesty, not daring to miss the moment the lights of Narshe penetrated the white showers with their hazy glow. Her anticipation was equaled only by the numbing weight of her Dread. It increased with every mile, until, at last, her heart gained a tempo, the yellow glow of Narshen lights pierced through the obscurity. Terra started. She had arrived. Her world-weary path had come full circle, and it was meet that the place of her starting and of her ending should be one. But the most difficult trial was still to come.

There was the wood, and, somewhere, the path, that led to Locke's cabin. There was the mountain under which she lived as a seeming child with her father now so long ago. There was the wall and the many-tiered city, its buildings like giant steps scaling the mountain. All the lights were aglow with life. And somewhere, obscured by the blizzard, was a plateau and a peak, where in imperial arrogance she had come to rob a god of its power, beyond the limits of her memory. There, she was told, she had been humbled and set on the hard path of penitence.

And there, again, was the way to Locke's cabin. Terra could hardly contain herself; the suspense was cruel.

"Banon," Terra said in her most subdued tone. "We have journeyed for many months. What is one hour to discover the fate of dear friends?"

Banon smiled and bowed assent. "Edgar and I will go speak with the elder. Go to your friends, but do not tarry long. You will be needed at counsel."

Thus Terra shot off on her Chocobo from the others. Edgar smiled benignly on her going, and looked as though some part of him wanted to go with her, though he knew he must adhere to the obligations of kingship.

Nonetheless, Terra raced through the trees, at first blindly, but then she saw the stable where Locke had untied and saddled their Chocobo in the beginning. Her bird had died deep underground in the caves where Terra's magic was first revealed. She never remembered what became of his noble bird.

What mercy! There were two Chocobo stabled there. She tied up her own beast and patted the other squawking creatures on the nose to calm them lest they give her away. Then she ran on towards Locke's cabin. She could see it through the trees now, and the chimney was happily smoking! If only she had been born with wings: the deep snow slowed her progress so tediously! She didn't know whether to laugh or weep.

And yet, remembering caution, she crept up the steps and put her ear to the door. There were voices inside. She couldn't hear what they were saying, but one of them—she could not have mistaken it—one of them was Locke's!


	30. Part 2, Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

OLD FRIENDS AND NEW

Then she got an idea. She ran back to the woods and picked up a stick, then, leaning on it and crouching like an old beggar woman, she pulled out a cup she happened to have on her, put a couple of coins in it, and went and knocked on the door.

"Who is it?" said Locke's voice from inside, testily, without opening the door.

"Alms for the poor!" Terra rasped. "Alms for the poor!" She shook the cup; the coins jingled.

The door opened a little. Bowed as she was, Terra could only see Locke's legs and a little way into the room. She could see no one else yet. Locke was apparently making sure that she was alone.

"Come now, young man," croaked Terra again. "You can spare some change for an old woman."

"Alright, come in," said Locke, clearly annoyed. He put his hand on her shoulder and guided her in, shutting the door behind her.

"I can manage all by my lonesome, sonny!" she snapped, giving him a rap on the chin with her stick.

"Ouch!" he cried. Someone laughed—it was a woman. Terra wondered who.

"All right, old woman, don't get bent out of shape about it," said Locke.

Terra reached up and shook her cup again, in front of his face, she judged. She wondered how long she could keep this up, when the unknown woman said suddenly, alarmed, "That's not an old woman!"

Terra stood up straight and threw back her hood, and found herself face to face with the most amazed Locke she could have imagined. His hand had gone to his knife, and remained fixed there by his astonishment.

"You've certainly grown cheap since we last met!" Terra cried.

"Terra!" cried Locke.

She threw her arms around him and they both burst into joyous laughter. He picked her up and spun her around the room.

"Terra?" said another voice, an older voice. Terra let go of Locke.

"Arvis!" she cried. Arvis (a gaunt, older-seeming Arvis) had risen to his feet, with the same astonishment and joy written on his face—his beautiful face with its beautiful scars. She ran right passed the woman, to whom she yet paid no heed, except to notice that she was a young woman, and almost tackled Arvis. Now she really did cry. She cried as she had never cried before, for these were not the tears of a frightened child, but of a strong, loving heart that had at last been united to those whom it had lost.

They passed a happy hour in Locke's snug little cabin. It was the happiest hour Terra had passed in a long time, and, I'm afraid to say, it would turn out to be the last for some time to come. For already the shadow of momentous events, dire and fell, was drawing near.

Terra related to Arvis (in brief) all that had happened to her and all that she had done since she fled from his underground dwelling, some of which he had already heard from Locke, though he insisted on hearing it from her. He was alternately transfixed with wonder and horror at all the right places in her tale. Then she turned to Locke and the young woman, too, and told them of all the things that had happened from the Returners' Hideout to Narsha.

Next Arvis told his tale. "Not a moment after I sent you on your way," he said to Terra, "through the underground passages to Locke's house, the soldiers that were pursuing us caught up with me. They beat me,"—here Terra clenched her fist at the thought of them striking and kicking him, kind and frail as he was—"and took me away. You should have heard some of the names they called me, my child (I suppose I can't call you that anymore; look what a woman you've become!). Shameful how these young imperial soldiers treat their elders, but I suppose they don't know any better."

"They should know better!" said Terra.

"Anyhow, if I thought that was bad, I hadn't seen the worst of it." The pleasant way in which he spoke made it hard to believe that he had actually suffered, or recognized the injustice done to him. He spoke as if he were telling an interesting anecdote. But the feebleness which marked the new Arvis was proof that he had suffered greatly.

"When Kefka came, I knew I was in for it," Arvis continued. "If you would have told me that I'd ever get to see you again, my dear, I would've—well, I don't know what I would've done, but I wouldn't have believed you. At any rate, Kefka had me tortured." He rubbed his hands together as he spoke, and for the first time Terra noticed that he had no fingernails, or none to speak of. They were just beginning to grow back in. She dropped to her knees, took his hands in hers, and put them to her cheek. They were thin and gnarled and trembled a little (not from fear but from age).

"When Kefka realized I would never tell him where you went, he threw me into a dungeon. I didn't know where—I was a bit delirious after the torture. It was dark as pitch, even in the daytime, for there was not a crack for the smallest ray of sunshine to sneak through. I lay in chains on the cold earth for longer than I know. There was no way of reckoning the time. Sometimes I didn't know whether I was dead or alive, mad or sane. Then—years later, it seemed—I got company. A man named Pierre—"

"Pierre! He helped us in South Figaro! What happened to him?" said Terra.

"He died," said Arvis, in the same easy tone, though now tainted with sorrow. Terra's heart dropped. "From him I learned that you made it as far as South Figaro, and I counted that a boon, unlooked-for and unexpected at my time of life, being an old man who saw that his days were almost gone. I thanked the gods with all my heart for that one gleam of hope, and I would have been content to die then. But that I lived to see you again, and to see you so...so...accomplished? No, that's not the right word. I don't know what you are, my dear, but you're certainly a lot of it!"

Everyone laughed.

"How did you escape?" asked Terra.

"Well, that's just the thing: I didn't. Celes here...oh, my goodness, what a forgetful old fool I am. I haven't introduced you. Terra, this is Celes."

"Nice to meet you," said Terra, shaking her hand.

"You don't remember me, do you?" said Celes. She was a young woman, about Terra's age. She was tall and thin, with long blond hair, straight as a knife's edge. She wore a white, silk-like cloak with the hood up, and one eye was partly covered by her hair. This made her seem somewhat concealed. But upon looking at her, Terra noticed that she had beauty and gracefulness, though in her face there was a bit of a sickly or desperate look.

"No, I'm sorry. I don't remember anything," said Terra.

Celes nodded and looked away, towards Arvis again as if he should continue his tale. Terra couldn't be sure, but she got the impression that Celes didn't believe her, or that there was contempt or envy beneath her gesture. Terra might have imagined it. In any case, she felt no hostility towards her and delighted at the prospect of having a female companion for a change.

"As I was saying," Arvis continued, "Celes snuck me out with the laundry. Seems fitting that old laundry should go out with the laundry."

"Oh, you're no such thing," Terra rebuked.

Next Locke took up the tale: "Then suspicion fell on Celes. She's been a spy for us for a long time now. She sent word that it was only a matter of time before she'd be found out, so Banon sent me to get her out of Vector."

He paced back and forth as he spoke, and used his hands as much as his mouth. More than once, distracted by his pacing, Terra pulled him down into a chair; but whenever he got to an exciting part—and every part seemed to be an exciting one for him—he got up and started pacing again.

Arvis couldn't take his eyes off Terra. Every time she looked at him he seemed still to be in his first state of amazement—amazement that he should see her again, and that he should see her so changed. In his words, she was "a whole new woman." Terra smiled and laid her head on his shoulder and continued to listen to Locke's tale. Locke seemed to need no audience, or else he was an audience unto himself, so wrapped up he was in the telling. He told how he stowed away on a merchant ship that set out from South Figaro and was bound for the Southern Continent (and how uncomfortable sleeping in a barrel was), how he landed at Tzen and trekked alone along imperial roads all the way to the capital, how he contacted Returner spies in Vector and caught up with Celes, and finally how they made their escape.

"So we slipped away right under the Emperor's nose! I've never been so close to him before. I was tempted to sneak into his fortress and end this whole damn war in one blow!" He actually took out his knife and thrust it into the imaginary Emperor's heart.

Celes rolled her eyes. Throughout she seemed withdrawn, and, as if by her will, attracted little attention to herself, but for a moment her eyes rested on Terra, waiting for some kind of response. When Terra didn't offer one, her eyes turned back to Locke, and so did Terra's.

Terra wished that she could go on indefinitely sitting with Arvis and listening to Locke work himself into a frenzy, but she could feel that already the hour of solace she had been granted was up. What would come after, she had no idea. But if the greatness of the joy that she had been given was equal to the test she would soon undergo, then it would be a great one indeed, a world-rending trial, which she might never have survived had it not been for the love of her dear friends. But now indeed she felt that she would never be more ready.


	31. Part 2, Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

WELL-LAID PLANS

"Locke, Banon has called a meeting," said Terra. "We have to go."

And so their happy together was ended. They issued from Locke's cabin in a solemn procession, partly because the wind bowed their heads and the deep snow kept their eyes on their steps, and partly because they all sensed that grim events were drawing near. They all had heavy hearts.

Terra followed Locke, walking in his footsteps as best she could, as she remembered doing once before—but this time their trek led them into Narshe, not away from it. She would always remember Narshe as giant steps going up the mountain. She looked now at the peak, obscured by a wreath of dark clouds. Every now and again lightning licked the summit and revealed its shape, a fell and ominous cone. When Terra looked upon that sight, and thought of the Esper at the top—brewing perhaps a second doom, one which might spell her annihilation—all her previous fears seemed as hollow thoughts. All her Dread, all her loneliness, all her nameless fears came upon her a-hundredfold. Was she not going to her death? Was this not her funeral procession?

If Terra had run into a solid and unmovable force, she could not have stopped more suddenly. She dropped to her knees with a gasp.

"Terra, my dear, what's wrong?" Arvis helped her to her feet. Her breath was short. Her mind reeled, and for a moment she feared that her insanity might return. But between great pangs of confusion and exhaustion, she knew clarity.

"Just help me walk. It will be over soon," she said.

Thus she walked with Arvis' support, as frail and thin as he had become since they last met. But she was so small that she could not have been a great burden. It seemed to give him pleasure to serve her. She was too overcome by weariness to care that Locke shot back worried looks, and Celes sly and curious glances.

Without knowing why, Terra drew the hood of her cloak over her head. Eventually the seizures abated so that she could walk unsupported, but now, so near the Dread Mountain, a dull weight, a quiet oppression hung on her mind. It lifted for nothing. Prayer only lessened it for a while, but prayer was wearisome. Blind, she trod the snow and looked not again at the terrible peak, but heard rumblings of thunder—the growing wrath of gods, she thought.

In such a state of mind she climbed—or rather was led—up the climbing streets of Narshe. Houses, built out of the very rock, with fires aglow inside, jutted out of the unequal ground on every side. When she turned her head, she saw onlookers stop in the street to gaze at the procession, some in wonder, many with unfriendly looks. It appeared to her that they were unwelcome guests or an unhappy interruption in the lives of the people. Terra smiled on them with love and pity, for if they only knew what had been done on their behalf and what still remained to be done, if they only knew what was at stake, if they knew what powers were soon to converge on this unlikely place, all their scorn would turn to gratitude, their contempt to love. It is astonishing how cosmic affairs can be put second to matters of domestic tranquility. If they only knew how all their dreams of happiness rested on the brink of destruction, how changed they would be!—Terra thought. How all their petty complaints, vices, and burdens would disappear!

Locke led them to a large house, built on a hill. Two guards were posted at the front doors, one of which Terra recognized as a Returner. When they saw Locke and Arvis, they let them pass, though they looked doubtfully at Terra and Celes. They must have looked suspicious—two women in white cloaks, hoods covering their faces.

Even inside Terra did not remove her hood, for somehow it gave her comfort and dulled her headache. A servant led them through many halls and rooms. At the last room he stopped and indicated that they should go in, then retired. Terra heard voices inside, one of them the low rumbling tones of Banon. They entered.

Terra saw that they were in a kind of study. A fire was burning. Men were standing in the middle of the room—Banon, Edgar, and some other Returners on one side, and some old men on the other. Banon greeted Arvis and Locke, and the four of them joined the Returners behind him.

Banon spoke to the elder, seeming to pick up where he'd left off: "The Emperor has tolerated your liberty only because your mines are so profitable, and he has been content merely to tax you. But now that he knows of the Esper, he will exert all his power to seize it. Your city will be nothing more than an imperial garrison by the end of the year.

"Now if you join us, we have recruited men from all over the world to make our stand at Narshe. If the Emperor were to seize the Esper, his power would be absolute, and his reign would never end. Surely he seeks immortality.

"This is our last best chance to throw off the yoke of tyranny. Join us! Or the Emperor's dogs will be at your doorstep, and you will have no allies to call to your aid. Trouble is coming; there's no stopping it now."

"If trouble has come upon us," retorted the elder, "it is you who have brought it! Do you think I don't know that your little uprising is camped right outside Narshe's walls? You say that battle is inevitable, but it strikes me that we could just as easily expel all of you and show the Emperor that we seek only peace.

"And what do we care whether the Emperor wants the Esper? We do not meddle in the affairs of kings and gods. If you were an older man, you would be wise. If you were not a rabble-rouser, you would not bring the Emperor's wrath upon your head, and then be forced to plead with peace-loving peoples to deliver you from his hand."

"Fool!" barked Banon. "If you love your people more than your own stomach, you will repulse the Empire while you can, and you will accept aid when it comes to you from afar. Over hard seas and through deadly perils, these men have come to protect your city. You think your gold can slake the Emperor's lust forever? Look at the works of this Empire you serve in your cowardice. They burned Maranda to the ground, poisoned the people of Doma, wiped out the very memory of peoples from Middan Erd. Every city and nation that panders to Emperor Gestaul—vile submission!—is full of rape, murder, cruelty, and all kinds of wickedness!"

The elder was about to respond when he was stopped by his fellows.

"We will now confer on this matter," said one of the other elders. "Please wait outside while we make our judgment." Banon and the others retired to an adjoining room.

"Be alert, men," said Banon when they were alone. "I think they're planning on having us killed unless they decide to make us their allies." Terra was still too incoherent and oppressed by her proximity to the Mountain Summit to be much concerned. She had survived worse perils.

Minutes passed. Finally the house servant came in and told them that they had been summoned.

When they returned, they found the elders much changed. The man who had argued with Banon sat down in a corner with a grim, defeated look. The man who had stopped him and called the others to council stood to meet them.

"Forgive our hesitation, dear friends," he said graciously. "It is a weighty matter to go to war, and a weightier one to oppose the Empire. You are only too right: we have been ruled by our fears, and up till now have been content merely to part with some of the bounty of our mines. But if, as you say, the Emperor is bent on possessing the Esper, then Narshe's neck is soon for the yoke of slavery. We will gladly accept your help. Now let us take council together to decide the best course for defending our city against so great a siege. How many men have you?"

"Five hundred encamped outside Narshe's walls, and many more on the way," said Banon. "I've sent out messengers to mobilize forces in Kohlingen, Jidoor, and Nikeah. I expect them any hour."

Then Edgar: "I sent letters and my signet ring with the Returners going to Kohlingen. They should find my castle a mile south of the city. Two hundred mounted men should be on their way."

"I thought Figaro Castle lay in the desert to the south?" replied the elder. "Did you build another?"

"Not exactly." Edgar smiled and looked at Terra.

"What is more," said Banon, "we have two magitek knights on our side," (_Two? _thought Terra), "who know how to pilot imperial tanks. The Emperor is sure to send tanks along with a few battalions, since he knows that there is not enough food to support great numbers, nor space, so narrow a valley as we are in. And the cold and the altitude would be sure to claim many of his men, so used as they are to the ease and luxury afforded them by conquered peoples."

The elder was surprised at the mention of magitek knights. "Who are these knights you speak of? We have heard that they are very great warriors, possessing strange powers."

At an affirming look from Banon, Terra stepped forward and pulled back her hood, though by doing so her headache perceptively increased. Celes also stepped forward, which caused Terra to wonder.

"This is Captain Terra and Lieutenant Celes," said Banon.

One of the other elders stared at Terra in fear and indignation. "I know you!" he said. "You're the witch who came here a twelvemonth ago! You and your troops demanded to be taken to the Esper, and when my son, the chief marshal, refused, you raised your hand at him and he caught fire. Writhing in the snow I watched my own son burned alive before my very eyes, and nothing could put out the flames until you lowered your hand." He showed his hands, which bore burn scars. Terra was in tears, and her heart was grieved. "How dare you come back here—Witch!—with the semblance of repentance!"

"Hold, Masori," said the spokesman.

Here Arvis came forward, hobbling on his cane. He put his shaking hand on Terra's shoulder to comfort her (which it did), and spoke words of wisdom and consolation.

"You all know who I am," he said. "I was once head of this council, back in the days when Narshe still opposed the Empire. I had a wife and five sons whom I loved very much. All five of my sons were killed in the Battle of Cormac River. They died heroically, which is as good a death as can be expected in this world. Still there has been far too much death and grief already, and there promises to be much more before the end. Grief over our sons killed my wife.

"After the Battle, a defeated Narshe was forced to come to terms with their new master. My heart was full of vengeance and hatred (which is a weary way to live, I can tell you), and I resigned from the council. I joined Banon and his lot.

"Then years later I heard a strange tale. A witch from the empire had been destroyed—destroyed, yet somehow she lived still—in an encounter with the god atop this mountain. This same witch—as you call her—was brought to me, and I was asked to pass judgment on her. My hand found my knife, but when I looked in her lost and searching eyes, even as she was raving in the grip of fever, all my hatred turned to love, and I called her 'daughter.'" Arvis took Terra's hands and kissed them. "I have now done what no man I know has ever done: I have kissed the very hands that took my family from me. Yes, it was Terra who killed my five sons."

Everyone gasped. Terra wept bitterly and trembled from head to foot. Astonishment sat on their faces. Locke's mouth dropped.

"If anyone has reason to despise this woman, it is I," continued Arvis. "And yet I love her as my own daughter. She is changed, as you would see if you only knew her. I believe that all her life she was deceived. And yet, in spite of all the evil she has done, the gods spared her life. Who now will condemn one on whom the gods have not passed judgment? Or if there is still wrath that must be spent, let it be spent on me, old and infirm and grave-bound as I am, rather than on this woman."

There was a tear in even the most stalwart faces. The elder who had accused Terra sat down without a word as one thunderstruck. Terra ever afterwards looked upon this as the moment she first knew love.


	32. Part 2, Chapter 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

A LESSON IN MAGIC

The council went on for several more hours. Happily, they didn't have to remain standing the entire time, as weary as they were already from their long journey. A table and chairs were brought in and dinner was prepared.

Terra sat next to Arvis and looked at him fondly and often. "Why didn't you tell me?" she said, awed by the depth of his forgiveness.

"It would only have grieved you, my child," he responded. "As far as I was concerned, your encounter with the Esper washed away your past forever, and I was anxious to keep you from evil memories for as long as I could. I could have wished to keep you ignorant forever, but now that I see how much courage and strength you have, I have the utmost confidence that you can endure anything. Bless you, child, for gracing these old eyes once again with the sight of you." Terra teared up and hugged him with all her might.

Banon, Edgar, and the elders spoke more about battle strategy. Their plan was to hold the enemy outside Narsha's walls for as long as possible, and to flank them on either side by means of secret passages in the caves. In this way, they hoped to capture the magitek tanks before they reduced the walls to rubble.

If the enemy broke through, they could retreat up the mountain and make a stand on the plateau, where the Narshans would have the advantage—for they knew the terrain and would not be strained by the altitude. They would be fighting with their backs to the Esper, and this would be the very last line of defense against its capture, unless the Esper itself fought.

"Captain Terra will go up and speak with the Esper before the battle and try to make it understand our plight," said Banon. "Who knows? Perhaps it will fight for us."

"No one has seen this Esper and lived," said the elder. "What makes you think it won't destroy both sides (and Narsha too) and be done with it?"

"One lived," Banon retorted. All eyes turned to Terra. Arvis looked apprehensive, and there was worry in Locke's eyes, despite his seemingly mischievous grin.

"Will you do this, Captain?" pursued Banon.

Terra's fear was overmatched by her sense of duty. "I will," she said, though in saying so she felt that she had most assuredly been wedded to Death.

"Then it is agreed," said Banon.

Just then a message came for Edgar. "My men have arrived," he said. "I must go out to meet them."

"Yes," said the elder. "The meal is over; this is a good time to adjourn our meeting. You'll want to call all of your men inside the city walls. And we must go make arrangements to accommodate them as best we can."

Everyone got up from the table.

"I don't like the idea of your going to see the Esper," said Arvis to Terra, "but I suppose it can't be helped. And I don't like the idea of your going into battle, but that can't be helped either. In the meantime, don't you think it might be wise to ask Celes for a magic lesson? Perhaps you'll gain some command over your powers."

Terra agreed, though she hadn't been able to read Celes very well before, and didn't know what kind of response to expect.

As they were leaving, Terra caught up with Celes. "Could you teach me how to use my powers?" she said.

Celes looked at her with surprise and perhaps a little incredulity. "_Me _teach _you_ about magic? Won't that be kind of ironic?"

"I don't know. Will it?"

"You really don't remember a thing, do you?"

"Nothing."

Celes laughed. "Sure, I'll teach you."

"Can I come?" said Locke, poking his head between them.

"Sure," said Celes. "We'll need a target."

"Uh oh," said Locke. All three of them laughed.

Terra and Celes were standing in a small field with maize stubble just poking through the snow. They were facing each other a few feet apart. Locke was sitting on a stone retaining wall on one side, swinging his legs restlessly. The wind blew and Terra, though wrapped in her thick, white bear fur, shifted from one foot to the other.

Celes began her lesson with an oration, which sounded like something she had memorized: "We don't call it magic when the soul exercises its will over the body to make it move or perform some action, or over the mind to contemplate some thought. We don't call it magic because it is such a familiar phenomenon that we take it for granted.

"The soul of a man is the king of his body, which is his rightful domain. No other man can control his body because that is not his domain, and the gods give his will no power over it. But what about nature and the elements? No one (or, rather, no one but the gods) commands fire or water, earth or trees or animals, as a soul commands its body. For that reason, nature is for the most part like a country without a king, which could be commanded by one who, like a god, could extend his will beyond the boundaries of his own body to this unclaimed domain."

"If one's will is the sole sovereign over his body," said Terra, "you couldn't force him to move his arm or transform him into a pig?"

"No, we can't," Celes replied (which answer filled Terra with doubt, since she had once done that very thing). "We can _influence_ him into moving a limb or thinking that he's a pig. Or we could make it appear that he's a pig, but it would just be an illusion; we could never actually change him into a pig. And not just because the gods have not granted us power over his body, but also because a change of that magnitude would be an act of great violence to nature, and would require a power beyond that of even the greatest magitek knight"—("Then what am I?" Terra thought)—"It requires great mental ability and strain to extend one's will beyond one's body, and for that reason our magic abilities are limited by distance and vision—and limited in power. I might be able to lift a cat by magic, but it would be very difficult for me to pick up a horse, and impossible to pick up a mountain."

"Where does magitek come from?" asked Terra.

"That story has never been fully told. All I know is that the Emperor found a supply of magic stone called magicite, and had his chief engineer experiment with it. He infused it in machines and created magitek tanks. He infused it in human beings and created magitek knights. Each knight has a scar on her abdomen from the infusion."

Now Terra wondered more, for she certainly had no such scar.

"Are all magitek knights women, then?" she asked.

"Almost. Women seem to be more receptive to the infusion. Most often the men die or show no signs of magic ability—with one notable exception."

"Who?"

"Kefka. He was the first experiment. They say something snapped in him that day, that he lost his mind. Whether it was because of the infusion or because a lust for power awoke in him, no one knows. If he didn't prove such a useful weapon, the Emperor would have had him killed. He may yet. The Emperor fears Kefka."

"And why is it ironic that you should teach me to use magic?" asked Terra.

"Haven't you guessed? You were the second, Terra. It was you who taught me and all the others how to control our powers."

"I must have been very young. I can't be more than twenty-five years old."

Celes laughed.

"What's so funny?"

"The truth is that you are closer to forty-five. The infusion significantly decreases aging. That is why the Emperor desires the Esper. There is some link between Espers and magicite. The Emperor seeks immortality."

Wonder upon wonder! Terra could never have guessed that she were so old. The delight of perpetual (or near-perpetual) youth and beauty soon gave away, however, to the fear of outliving those she loved. How long would she live? Would she live long enough to see Locke become Arvis's age, herself unchanged since the day they met? Would he die while the fire of youth still surged in her veins? How she dreaded to see his innate energy and vigor fade—ultimately, and finally, leaving her alone again, totally and utterly alone!

"How is all this helping me use magic?" asked Terra, trying to banish the thought.

"It may not," said Celes. "But you'd be surprised how often theoretical knowledge has practical value."

Locke, who hadn't heard a word of their conversation, suddenly shouted out: "Hey, when are you gonna blow something up?"

Celes rolled her eyes, then looked around and found a scarecrow at the end of the field. "Try to set that on fire," she said.

"It's too far away," said Terra.

"No, it's not. Try. Extend your will towards it."

Terra made several attempts. She reached out with her hand, for that seemed to aid her reaching out with her mind, but all to no avail. She only succeeded in worsening her headache.

"What's the problem?" said Celes.

"If I knew that I wouldn't need a lesson, would I?" said Terra, frustrated.

"I mean, you look pained."

"I have a headache. I've had it ever since we entered the city."

"Really?" Celes looked as if this were meaningful to her, but would not disclose its meaning when asked, much to Terra's chagrin.

"Try to clear your head first," said Celes.

Celes stared hard at her. While they kept eye contact, almost imperceptibly Celes' eyes glowed dimly with a cold light. At the same time, Terra prayed that her headache abate. And finally it went away, almost entirely, leaving only the lightest weight pressing on her mind.

She stretched out her hand again, palm up, and suddenly a fire came to life in it. It was hot but did not burn.

"Now do something with it," said Celes, who must have moved behind her.

Terra made a fist, and the fire (she felt) continued to grow in her hand until she feared she couldn't hold on to it any longer—not because it grew too hot (although a greater heat she had never felt), but because it grew so powerful that it would soon leap from her hand. Terra quickly fixed her eye on the scarecrow and released the fire. It shot from her hand faster than arrow from string, hitting the scarecrow with such force that it exploded. A shower of flaming straw fell where it had stood a second before. Now there was nothing but the smoking stub of a post.

"Yeah! Way to go, kid!" cheered Locke.

Terra looked at Celes, who gave something like an approving smile.

Suddenly Terra heard a second explosion. She looked back to the annihilated scarecrow. It remained the same.

"That wasn't you," said Celes.

Locke jumped off the wall, and all three of them ran towards the sound.


	33. Part 2, Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

THE SIEGE OF NARSHA

Terra, Locke, and Celes ran down the street towards the origin of the explosion. But before they went very far, they heard another. Then another.

"Look!" Locke said as they rounded a house. From where they stopped, they could see down over the city walls. In the valley they beheld an army clad in imperial brown and, in the midst of them, three black raptor-shaped machines. Bright flashes issued from the magitek tanks, followed immediately by echoing booms. They bombarded the walls, sending up quantities of stone and mangled men, brick and bone. The souls of the men on the wall, so lately discharged of their earthly weight, rose upward and vanished. Terra stood dumbfounded by the violence.

"Come on!" Locke urged them. "We have to find Banon!"

The streets were a swarm of people all running in different directions—mothers carrying their babes, children standing on street corners crying out for their parents, men arming themselves and running to join the fray. Terra got separated from Locke and Celes. She tried to look for them, but she was jostled by the crowd. There was an explosion overhead. A building had been struck nearby; it sent down a shower of wood and stone. Then someone grabbed her hand. It was Locke! He led her through the crowd.

The closer the three of them got to the city walls the fewer were the people running away. They would later learn that the women and children of Narsha, led by Arvis, evacuated into the mines.

They found Banon by his voice. "Aim for the pilots!" he thundered. The archers on the parapet continued to spend their arrows, holding fast to their stations, even as their comrades were blasted away beside them.

Terra could no longer see them, being beneath the wall, but she cursed the Empire's cowardice to use such war-machines, those false crow-gods. She and her friends ran up the stairs to join Banon.

There were thousands of soldiers in the valley before the strong walls of Narsha. Indeed, for the snow Terra could not see the end of them. They wore brown armor, round helmets, and oblong shields which bore the symbol of an iron scepter. There were swords strapped to their sides and spears in their hands.

The magitek tanks moved on long, raven-like legs ending in three-taloned feet. On their backs there was a fan of thin metal, like a dorsal fin, and on either side pipes belching black smoke. Above the beak was a chamber where the pilot sat, protected by a thick layer of glass. All the arrows of the Returners and the Narshans rebounded ineffectively.

Someone came up from behind Terra.

"All the men made it inside just in time." It was Edgar. "The snow must have concealed the soldiers. If our men saw them, they must not have had a close look. They must have thought they were late-coming reinforcements. No one else has arrived yet. All we have are my men and those we brought from Mobliz and about four hundred fighting-men of Narsha. If anyone else is coming, they may be ambushed if they do not expect the Empire."

"This is evil news," said Banon. "I had not counted on the Emperor's speed. I don't know that we can hold Narsha, strong-walled though she may be, against two thousand men and three magitek tanks. But we have no other course now. May the gods grant us mercy."

"Do you hear that?" said Edgar. "The tanks have stopped firing."

"Perhaps they want to talk terms," said Banon, and called a ceasefire.

Terra looked and saw a tall, snake-thin man dressed in pomp and bright colors and looking something like a clown.

"Kefka!" someone hissed nearby. Terra jumped.

Beside him stood a greater man, preeminent he seemed among warriors, proud and erect. She recognized him from South Figaro. It was General Leo.

"I'll bet you it was General Leo that called the ceasefire," said another man. "If it were only him, and not that villain Kefka, you can be sure there would have been negotiations before either side fired a shot."

Then Kefka spoke. His voice was high and cruel, and Terra felt her very blood drop several degrees to hear it:

"Who of you cowards can answer for this vile rebellion! Why does his Excellency, the all-benevolent Emperor Gestaul, find treachery in the North where he once found friendship? Who has seduced you, fools, to throw in your lot with terrorists and thieves? Answer!—if you have tongues, and do not dream that your thin walls will withstand the Emperor's wrath, justly ignited. Give up the leaders of this pathetic insurrection and you will find that the Emperor is as rich in forgiveness as he is in justice. You need not all perish. Speak!"

To whom thus Banon: "As for tongues, keep your forked one behind its teeth, if you don't want it cut out! I know you, Kefka, and you know me. Let us not, therefore, speak falsehoods and idle words when deeds are called for. What the Emperor calls friendship, honest men call slavery! And where the Empire extends its tyrannous dominion, honest men are few.

"We know what you would do, Kefka! You would have the woman Terra, sometime called Witch of the Empire, now called friend to free men and just law. You would have the Esper of this mountain, thinking perhaps to gain for yourselves power and life everlasting. Not content to be humbled and struck down once, you come to be shown a second time what happens to men who aspire to deity, thinking perhaps that the Esper will remain idle and not sweep away the Emperor's arrogance—and all the men you have assembled here—with fire from heaven!"

The way he spoke, Terra fully expected Esperial fires to descend that moment and consume the imperial army.

Kefka was livid. He stomped the ground childishly, which apart from being ridiculous seemed to make him all the more dangerous. Indeed, the soldiers closest to him gave him a wide berth. "Fool!" he cried, "Whoreson! Rabble-rouser! Terrorist! So you admit to me that you have abducted the woman Terra, whom the Emperor loves as his own daughter. No doubt you can find some unworthier thing—worthier for you—on which to slake your lusts, foul defiler! Many great wars have been fought, and many famous peoples have been destroyed, for the sake of a woman. Give her up to us now and the Narshans may live. Hear me, Narshans! Kill this fool Banon where he stands and expel the rebels from among you, and the Empire will grant you everlasting peace."

At that moment several things happened all at once. General Leo came forward to speak, but just as he opened his mouth Kefka shouted: "Fire! Fire! Fire!" The magitek tanks roared to life and began once again to launch their terrible missiles.

At the same time (Terra saw out of the corner of her eye), one of the archers on the wall turned and fired at Banon. The traitor was dead—slain by his fellow Narshans—almost the moment after the arrow left his string, but the arrow would surely have found its mark had not Celes intervened. It happened so quickly that Terra hardly saw it. There was a flourish of white cloak, a figure passed before Banon (it might have spun), and the arrow was no more. It was Terra's belief that Celes had caught it in her cape.

A part of the wall exploded nearby and Terra was struck with a stinging spray of rubble.

"Come," said Banon, "We must get higher, and we must find you some armor, Captain."

Thus they descended the stairs and left the wall, Banon leaving Edgar in charge, the archers still firing, the shouts of men killing and men dying and the thunderous blasts smiting the wall filling Terra's hears, and her heart with sorrow. She hardly dared to look back, for fear of seeing some heavenward soul mounting the air. She hardly dared not to look, for fear that one of these tiny blue stars might go up unacknowledged.

Terra, Banon, Locke, and Celes climbed the streets of Narsha towards the armory. They passed many an empty house, so cheery only an hour before, now grim and bare and damaged by enemy fire. The snow on the road had been packed down by the feet of the refugees, even as more fell and covered it softly. Where was Arvis? Terra hoped he was safe. It would be a terrible thing to win him back from death only to lose him a moment later.

Looking up at the summit of Mt. Narsha, Terra's hood fell back. The peak was darkening, and its peals of thunder overmatched those of the magitek tanks. The billowing black clouds—lit up now and again by fierce lightning—were expanding overhead. The moment Terra's hood fell back, she was seized again by fear, and her headache returned in full force. Her ears rang painfully.

She must have winced, because Locke asked her if she was ill, though his voice sounded like it was underwater.

"I'm fine," said Terra, reluctant to speak because of the pressure in her head.

At last they reached the armory. They passed through the gate under an arch in the wall. There was a tower coming out of the stone building, partly nestled in, partly emerging from the cliff behind it, with the top commanding a wide view of the valley.

With her mind so muddled, Terra had little care to observe her surroundings. Somehow they had reached a little hall or corridor lined with weapon-racks on both sides. Banon found his armor and put it on. He looked even more powerful than before, clad all in iron, clinking when he walked, and heaving a huge double-sided ax over his shoulder. Then Locke, reluctantly it seemed, put on his armor. It was thin and shabby (exactly suiting him) and spare at the joints, allowing him full range of movement and speed. It might not stop the full force of a thrown spear, but a glancing sword-stroke would fail to penetrate. Clearly Locke trusted more to his agility than to a smith's ironwork.

Celes' armor was there too. It must have been brought with the other things by the Returners. Hers was by far the most elaborate and expensive. Much care must have gone into its making. She went away to change, and Terra assisted her and put on her own armor. Celes' armor was perfectly crafted to fit her body, and shone with a pale silver sheen (even in the relative darkness) as if by moonlight.

To Terra they had given only a long garment of chainmail for her to wear under her cloak, which was heavy for her, though made for boys. They reasoned that Terra would not join in the fighting, but would stand behind the archers and cast fire upon the enemy if she could, or go up to call upon the aid of the Esper, a thing which Terra still didn't know how to accomplish. And, at any rate, they reasoned that the imperial soldiers would be ordered not to shoot one on whom both sides hung all their hopes.


	34. Part 2, Chapter 16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

THE FIRST BATTLE

Meanwhile, King Edgar organized the Narshans, Moblizens, his own Figaroan men, and Returners from the four corners of the Empire into rank and file. They were preparing to issue forth from the gates of strong-walled Narsha to meet the imperial troops. The Narshan men were big and broad-shouldered, with the soot of the mines darkening their faces. They were clad in dark mail and great broadswords hung on their belts. Their huge arms were more fit for hammer and pickax, but woe to the man who fell under their mighty strokes.

Next beside the mountain-men stood the swift-footed Moblizens—plains-dwellers—who ran upon the veldts of the Eastern Continent, and whose far-shadowing ash spears even the nimble gazelle could not outrun. These stood clad in yellow and tan armor, like the color of their fair sunlit plains—a proud and dark-complexioned race.

Next stood the Returners, the crafty forest-people, called rogues and highwaymen by the Empire, but generous and stouthearted men. Dark green was their armor, and though ragged and travel-worn in appearance, their bowmen were the dread and terror of imperial convoys.

Last were the king's own mounted men, trained horsemen, clad in dark red armor. On each of their shields and on the high-running royal standard was the crest of Figaro, the bear and leopard rampant. Their great warhorses neighed and chomped their bits expectantly.

King Edgar, godlike in girth, inferior to none in war and in counsel, ranged throughout the hosts of freemen on his proud horse, commanding and giving heart. Truly like a god of war he seemed in his shining armor, his double-edged sword girt to his side, the round disc of his shield hung on his broad back.

King Edgar spoke in a commanding voice: "Men of Narsha, men of Mobliz, and you Returners from every province and nation, remember your strength and warcraft! Now is the time to beat back the dark destruction, not only from Narsha, but from the free world. If we stand, Narsha stands. But if we fall, the world falls—for it is no secret that the Emperor seeks the woman Terra, once called his iron scepter, and the Esper of this mountain, by which he hopes to gain immortality.

"Ever war and domination is dear to the Emperor's heart, he who leaves the fighting to other men and takes a double share of the plunder. Do not, therefore, shrink back from the strong encounter—grim and terrible as war must be—but think of that which we defend: the soft arms of your wives and your children whom you dandle on the knee. A man fighting to defend his home is worth two fighting to conquer!"

With that, the king gave a great war cry, which rang out thunderously; and all his men joined his cry, shaking their spears and beating their shields; so that, though not seeing the Narshans, all the imperial soldiers to a man quailed in his heart.

The gates of strong-founded Narsha opened, and there issued forth the furious Returners. Like a dam, whose waters have built up after the heavy rains have swelled the river to a mighty flood, and finally, groaning, the floodgates burst open and release the terrible torrent, which sweeps away whole cities—so the Returners issued out of the gates.

But the imperialists, with their long spears, were ready to meet them. Led by General Leo, preeminent among warriors, they ran towards the Narshans.

First to kill his man was the valiant King Edgar of the red shining armor. Edgar, mounted on his charging steed, balanced his ash spear and cast it. It struck Darius of Albrook, who stood a head above the other imperialists and was certainly not the least of them for girth. Edgar's spear struck him in the eye before he could raise his shield, shoring all the way through and out of the back of his head, knocking off his helmet. Darius, seeming to hear the fatal call of that train which takes men yonder, fell thunderously to the ground, his armor clattering about him, and his ghost passed out with his expiring breath to the place where spirits wait for the judgment to come at the world's end.

Next General Leo let go his spear far-flying and struck Caspian, Edgar's own right-hand man, and well skilled in fighting. The spear struck his shield and penetrated it—so mightily had it been thrown, and so strongly made in the forges of Vector, the Emperor's capital—and passing also through his breastplate and between his ribs deep into his breast. Caspian fell clattering off his charging horse and gave up the ghost, joining those others that rose above the heads of the fighting men—grim effervescence.

But Kefka stayed back far from the fighting, urging the imperial bowmen to aim for King Edgar. But the arrows bounced ineffectively off the king's shining shield, so Kefka had his archers aim for Edgar's horse. The imperial bowmen struck down his great horse, which neighed pitifully as the darts struck his flanks and fell, throwing King Edgar to the ground thunderously.

"Kill him! Kill him!" cried Kefka urgently, seeing Edgar lying in the snow far from his men. And surely the imperialists would have stripped the life from Edgar, had not his own men rode in faster and formed a protective circle around their fallen king. Thereupon Kefka stormed and raged furiously.

Then the king rose to his feet and, finding Kefka easily in the throng on account of his pomp and false splendor, took up a throwing spear, balanced it, and cast it at him. It was a wonder, unless some god was behind Edgar's arm, how far and how true the spear shot. Surely it would have struck the life out of Kefka then and forestalled many of the world's woes, but with a shriek Kefka grabbed his attendant boy and shielded himself with his body. The spear tore through the attendant's young flesh—for which Edgar grieved in his heart—and smote the hand that held him. Kefka screamed and turned pale at the sight of his own blood and that of the dead boy at his feet, whom he kicked. Nursing his wounded hand, Kefka rebuked General Leo, who had come back from the front lines carrying a dead soldier in his arms.

"False friend to the Empire, Leo, you who are foolishly called General, what are you doing back from the fighting so soon? Have these rebels and whoresons frightened you out of your senses? Look here: my favorite boy is dead and I am wounded on account of that wicked King Edgar, whom you could have killed if you were as great a man as the men say."

"Silence, coward!" said General Leo. "You who hang back far from the fighting, where men win glory, and spit your venom at so great a man as this King Edgar is, and then whimper like a child when you incur a king's wrath!

"Go back to Vector if you have no heart for war, and fill the Emperor's ear with your evil counsels, since all men know that wealth and feasts and the legs of other men's wives are dearer to your heart. As for me, I go to lay my youngest son's body aside from the fighting, lest the greed of men take away his armor and so dishonor him."

Thus, heavy-hearted, General Leo went away to lay to rest the spirit-fled body of his son, and Kefka glared after him, long cherishing the rebuke he had got.

All this time, Terra looked on from the tower with great sorrow in her heart. She wept to see the grim ebullition of blue spirits ever rising from the flashing steel and the red snow—war, that great boiling pot of carnage giving off the souls of men. And yet, being better taught by Reason, she knew the hard necessity of war, that the flesh with its canons of pleasure and pain is no judge of good and evil, and that far more evil would be laid upon the world's neck if Justice had no champions. Even so, Terra's heart grieved for the men—more so, perhaps, because she was now to raise her hand against them.

"Try to destroy the magitek tanks," said Banon, close at hand. With her also were Locke and Celes.

Terra felt a peal of thunder from the darkening summit shake the mountain. On top of her fear of the mountain's growing wrath, her headache was now worse than ever. Covering her head, closing her eyes, plugging her ears—none of these had any effect. Now that it really mattered, Terra was powerless. She was conscious of the others waiting for her. She was more conscious of her incompetence.

Nevertheless, she tried. The ringing in her ears was rending, and all her efforts to concentrate only intensified the pain in her head. But she knew she must do this—do this or die in the attempt. Summoning all her will, and scorning the pain, Terra raised her hand and extended her mind in fiery wrath upon the magitek tanks. What actually happened she had not expected.

Terra had not had a nightmare in a long time, but nothing, not even the greatest throes of terror as she writhed in fever and madness, was as terrible as this. For a moment all the world, every edge and corner, became piercingly clear. Her headache was shorn away in an instant, and behind it she found—to her great undoing—the Dread Approach of Her-Whom-She-Dare-Not-Meet. All the time, from her landing to her entering Narsha, every moment that Terra had felt the oppressing weight upon her mind, whether it had been in the exercise of her powers or in gazing upon terrible Mt. Narsha, her headache had been a disguise for Her Coming. She was near now.

And then all at once the world was torn from her. Terra looked and her vision raced to the very summit of the mountain, into the very presence of the Esper. The tempest raged in furious anger and smote earth and sky with lightning. There, as if she were at its feet, was the frozen Esper, the great icebound bird with fanning, prismatic wings and rending claws, and above all else the terrible eyes, and within them the growing light which was burning out her mind. Then, when the fearsome glow of its eyes had reach its height, and her terror had overstepped the bounds of human suffering, the Esper let forth a cosmic and world-ending screech. Terra screamed in unspeakable agony, she was separated from everyone and everything by infinity, light turned to darkness, and all became as nothing.


	35. Part 2, Chapter 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

THE DEATH-WEDDED BRIDE

Terra awoke quivering like a child. For a moment she thought the past year with all its woes had been a mere dream, for there was Arvis watching over her. She was lying in a bed, having awoken to the rising scream of the kettle and the smell of tea. But her surroundings were different. For a cave there was now a luminous house: light came in through the windows; the snow was falling outside. Arvis too was different. He was gaunt and wraithlike, like a scarecrow, and his countenance was heavy with care.

He smiled when she looked at him, having just finished pouring her tea, and Terra wondered how it was that no man but he could so delight her heart when he smiled, to delight whom was her delight. No man but he, scarred though he was, could show her the nature of loveliness, he who served without need and loved without guile.

"Drink this, and have something to eat," he said. He helped her to the table, broke bread, and buttered it for her as she sipped her hot tea, even though she could have done it for herself. She was not weakened as before when she first woke from delirium to Arvis' tender care. And now she felt the summons of fate come upon her.

"What happened?" she said. "What's going on outside?"

"I'm afraid things haven't gone so well for our friends," said Arvis sadly. "Your friend Calogrent is dead. They say he got cut down by the magitek tanks. The imperialists refrained from using the damned machines for close-range fighting because they're a little indiscriminant in their destructiveness, but King Edgar was doing so well (and I think General Leo left the fighting for a bit and left Kefka in charge) that the enemy set them against us. I hoped these old eyes wouldn't live to see such evil. The way those machines went slicing and dicing and trampling young men underfoot like so many grapes...

"In the end there was nothing the king could do but sound the retreat. The only problem was that they couldn't get the gates shut in time, so now the enemy is in the city. Every hour we're giving ground; we'll be fighting on the mountain soon. I'm afraid this is the end, my dear. The gods have decided not to spare Narsha, or else that we'll all be happier in the next world. I'm just glad we'll all get to go together. My only regret is for you young ones. I should so have liked it if you'd have lived to have children of your own.

"But I'm supposed to show you a secret way up the mountain to meet Banon, where I'm told you'll all make a last stand of it. I just wish it were all over already. I love you so much."

There were tears in his eyes, and in Terra's too. She hugged him mightily. Without a word he helped her into her white cloak. She left the chainmail behind, for it would be a hard climb; and what awaited her at the top, if it were death, no armor could prevent, and if it were life, would not require it. Arvis opened the door and they passed out with heads bowed. Their hearts were too heavy for words. Only the straining slope would suffice to pacify their sad thoughts.

Far away, it seemed, Terra heard the terrible shouts and clamor of war, down away in the city; and in the other direction, the growling, stormy summit of Narsha. Terra looked up, then away. Her heart was still too full of fear to stare it in the face, even though she had now resigned herself to death, and felt the strange sense of liberation that such resolution brings—as if it were not death itself but doubt and uncertainty that held sway in her heart. Without these, what was death? Death was disarmed.

Still Arvis and Terra made a sad march up the climbing slope of Narsha. They went apart from the snow-covered houses, through the trees and between towering stones, on a path hidden in snow. With every aching step—now walking upright, now climbing on hands and knees—Terra felt the heaviness grow in her heart. She Whose coming Terra dreaded came now no nearer, but neither did She depart. She remained a constant threat, though the threat was dulled by certitude of death. She looked over her shoulder, thinking to see someone following them, only to remember that it was Her she felt.

Then, all too soon, Arvis said, "This is where I must leave you, my dear." Terra stopped and looked at him. He showed her the pass she would have to follow to the top. He had taken her hand. He now kissed her forehead (and she in turn kissed his cheek) and watched her as she went on by herself. She turned now and again and found that he still followed her with his sad eyes, downcast in his heart. She could not dismiss the feeling that Arvis had given her away in marriage, and given her to a dark and fearsome bridegroom. Never till the very end of her days did Terra forget the image of the old man standing in the snow, watching over her—a picture of the Father.

Finally Arvis was out of sight. Turning now to the unhappy slope Terra went on in silence up the mount. She looked up briefly at the summit, the point at which all clouds were gathering towards the slow-rotating, cyclonic wreath of cloud which crowned the peak. The wind rose and became bitter cold, and Terra walked in relative darkness. The pressure grew in her head, until she yawned and her ears popped.

But the pass did not take her to the top. It now turned aside and opened out onto a wide plateau above the city of Narsha. There, at some distance, she made out through the thick-falling snow the figures of men. They were Returners and Narshans. She walked towards them, and they watched her without word or movement. A lone woman emerging from the snow. The mountain growled.

There among them stood Banon, head and shoulders above the rest. His aspect was grim and his armor looked like it had seen fighting. His huge ax was notched and bloodied. All the men were panting; many of them had thrown themselves down on the ground once they had reached the top; and many were wounded.

Banon saw her and came over to meet her. "Captain," he said, "this is our last stand. If you can make use of your powers or call upon the aid of the gods, now is the time. I have you stationed over there with the archers. Edgar should be arriving any minute with the imperialists hard on his heels. Here we shall turn and fight to the last man. May the gods grant us mercy."

So saying, Banon of the long strides ranged through the band of men, pulling them to their feet, speaking words of encouragement and stirring the hearts within their breasts to valor and great deeds. Then the Returners remembered their strength, and each man was eager to meet the enemy in the bitter strife. It was not long before each man had his wish.

Through the fast-falling snow came first the sound of war, and then, appearing from behind a rock below them, men came running up the slope. Some slipped as they climbed, and some of those never rose again, for the imperialists came fast behind and stabbed any fallen man, driving out the sad spirit from his body. Terra grieved for them.

Few of the Returners would have made it to the top alive had it not been for man-slaughtering Edgar. Terra picked him out by his red shining armor, and by the broad swath of destruction in his path. Now the sure-footed king cut down the oncoming imperialists backpedaling up the slope, now he turned and ran up to keep the pace with his routed men, holding his shield behind his back to fend off the darts of the enemy, and stripping the life from any soldier who advanced far ahead of his comrades in hopes of killing some stumbling Narshan.

The Returners' numbers were vastly diminished. There could not have been more than five hundred freemen that reached the shelf. The horses could not manage the slope, but neither could the magitek tanks. They would have to take a long detour to reach the plateau.

When Edgar and his men drew closer, Banon, and with him all the men who had already climbed up onto the lip of the wide shelf, let fly their spears far-shadowing. They struck down many imperial troops and ensured that the remnant of Returners reached the top. The imperialists were beaten back and forced to regroup, now that the freemen commanded the high ground. This gave Banon and Edgar time to organize their remaining forces.

Terra looked for her friends, but having heard of Calogrent's death, she had no hope of finding them among the exhausted and wounded Returners. But Banon organized a special rearguard for the purpose of protecting Terra, should the imperialists break through their main front. Terra was happy to find that it consisted of Locke, Celes, and Sabin, among others. They too had seen much fighting, as was evident by their nicked armor and bloodied weapons.

In spite of all the sadness Locke had seen, in spite of the grief in his eyes, Locke managed to give her one of his mischievous grins, and say with a lightness that rose above all the gravity of their predicament, "Well, kid, it looks like this is the end. When we get to the other side, don't be a stranger." Terra was filled with too much sorrow to laugh, but the burden was lightened a little.

Celes said nothing, but looked at Terra with something like pity or desperation in her face. It was impossible to tell.

Sabin, huge in his armor, indeed larger than Edgar his brother and second only to Banon for girth, stood apart from the others. His eyes were closed and he appeared to be meditating, right up to the moment the fighting began.

Standing now far away from the edge, Terra only saw the Returners jump back, no longer able to keep the Empire at bay with their spears, as the horde of furious imperialists overwhelmed their defenses and drove onto the plateau.


	36. Part 2, Chapter 18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

THE LAST STAND

The imperial army, led by General Leo, leapt onto the plain and met the Returners in the fierce encounter. Soon the freemen were giving ground, and Terra with dread realized that, on top of all the horror of war, they were being forced back towards the abode of the Esper. As a young deer springing away from the ravening wolves sees that there is nowhere to run but to the edge of a high cliff; and that there is but a choice between two deaths, one on the rocks below and another in the devouring maws; so Terra's heart recoiled in fear. She could not see but sense that the Esper was near, and growing nearer with every backward step. Looking to the right and to the left, she found no means of escape.

But seeing her friends around her, Terra remembered Arvis' words and found solace in the thought of dying with her dear friends, and dying for a chance to free the people of the world from a great evil. Moreover, this death—as good as death as could be hoped for—would be a shorter separation from Locke and Edgar and Arvis and Banon (and Calogrent too) than could ever be expected in the course of nature. Soon they would all be together on that Phantom Train—"Was that its call now?" Terra thought, "Or was it only the wind?"—flying ever on into joy and light. And yet, despite the comfort of these thoughts, she could not suppress the animal panic brought on by the anticipation of death. She shrank from the embrace of that stern bridegroom.

The pitiless steel clashed and thunder roared above. Terra looked up and saw all the sad spirits like blue fireflies mounting the darkening sky, and beyond them the gathering clouds in slow rotation around the peak of Mt. Narsha, as if gathering up all the natural order of things to its final end. Terra wept. But even in the midst of her sorrow she prayed for courage, and her prayer did not go unanswered.

First among the sad and noble deeds of war, Banon lord of battle lightly hefted a huge stone that three men together could not lift (such as men are now) and hurled it. It struck Philip of Tzen in the chest. His costly and intricately wrought armor did nothing to save him from so mighty a throw, but rather caved in; and his chest collapsed and his shattered ribs punctured his vitals. And death found him as he fell with armor clattering to the ground, the soul driven out between the teeth with his expiring breath—life's wind stilled.

Next glorious Leo came on the furious warpath, and no Returner or Narshan could stand up against his onslaught. Leading the imperial troops in the close fighting, General Leo broke through the Returner's front line, cutting down Argos of Nikeah and Kent of Mobliz, then Alphus of the sweeping sword-strokes and the two sons of Doran. Their names were Caster and Dan, and they were twins, born of the same mother to Doran of Kohlingen, who would now have to bear the sorrowful news that his only sons had filled out their destiny under the sword of godlike Leo and were killed far from Kohlingen, their home.

Giving way before the powerful imperialists, the Returners could not prevent them from breaking through, even to the rearguard which protected the woman Terra. Now the fighting was close, and first among her high-hearted protectors was swift-footed Locke of Narsha, whose quickness of hand and foot seemed beyond mortal. Many a spearman and bowman strained to hit him, but he lightly avoided their missiles. His heart responded with furious valor to the imperials' pursuit of the fair and flaming-haired Terra, a woman equal to a goddess for beauty.

First Locke killed Amnon of Vector as he, being the greater man, hoped arrogantly to strip the life from him. But as Amnon raised his spear to strike at him, Locke stepped close and with his short sword cut the tendon of his elbow in the chink where the plates meet. Amnon's spear had not even time to fall from the arm he had unstrung before Locke had stabbed him in the eye with a long knife in his other hand and moved past him to kill the next man. In quick succession, Locke unbound the souls of Damon, Arius, Wallace, and Conan. As when a deadly viper is loose in the pasture and all the shepherds are striving to kill it with staff or stone, but the serpent evades them all and strikes their feet (a small prick, but the venom spells agony and death), and after claiming many lives slithers off unscathed—so Locke stripped the life from many imperial soldiers and vanished from their midst before they could close in upon him.

Next Celes, equal to a man in all fighting; pale and treacherous as the moon; with fair, flowing hair; a deadly beauty; worked bitter chaos and confusion among the enemy. Tall and splendid in her silver armor, and flourishing a long, icy thin blade, Celes the beautiful came bearing death. With grace and form to equal the greatest dancer ever to perform in the theatre of opera-famed Jidoor, she mesmerized the imperialists even as she sliced through them—a storm-cloud of silver blade and white cape. Terror seized the troops, and reason left them. With vicious and clumsy strokes they hacked left and right, straining to kill her and beat back the dolorous death-day. It was some time before they realized that Celes was not among them, and the survivors, panting and bleeding, stood with swords stained in imperial blood and bodies piled around their feet.

When they caught sight of her again, Celes was standing aloft on a steep hill on the other side of a trench, in which perhaps a stream had once flowed in a great thaw. She gave a smile full of coquettish and imp-like mischief, which maddened the imperialists. They rushed to their deaths in the trench, where the ice-hard slope caused them to slip and fall on their swords—or else to lay twisting and squirming and wait for Celes to descend gracefully as the wind and thresh away their lives.

Next Sabin, a man than whom none greater could be found, else it were godlike Banon, stripped the life from many a man. He was huge in his royal armor, like to that of his brother, King Edgar, and wielded a long spear with a crescent blade on the end coming to a point. In truth no man so great was as agile as he. Powerfully flourishing his spear, spinning, flipping, kicking and striking, and sounding off at the end of each mortal blow, the martial artist killed any imperialist who was bold enough to meet him. He alone was all the defense that Terra needed, for against wall-like Sabin the imperialists gained not an inch of ground, and he caught all their missiles or brushed them aside as one brushes aside a gnat.

Indeed, it was now the Returners who were pushing back the imperialists, in spite of the mighty works of preeminent Leo. The light was failing in the west. Dark would soon be upon them and put an end to the strife. It was then that General Leo called all the warriors to cease fighting, urging the imperialists to put away their furious strength while Banon and King Edgar did the same on the other side.

Leo was first to address the champions of the North: "Let us put aside the dolorous fighting for now, for night which puts an end to all the strife of war will soon be upon us. And, what is more, it is not meet for enemies to destroy each other utterly if some accord can be reached.

"So I ask you, brave Northmen and Returners, give back to us the woman Terra, and we will leave strong-founded Narsha. It is not wise to fight so strongly for a woman, however beautiful and skilled she may be. Let her come back to her people and we will put an end to the furious fighting."

The heart was stirred within Terra's breast by Leo's speech, and Terra spoke words suitable to times of war. "General Leo," she said, "In very truth your speech and your unhappy sighs move the heart within me to grieve. I know now what before was only rumor to me, that you are an honest and valiant man."

"You know me not, then?" replied Leo, heart-saddened.

"No, though I am told that once I knew you, I know you not. It happened that a twelvemonth and more ago I came to the summit of this very mountain, arrogantly seeking the Esper for the Emperor's pleasure. Here the Esper, which I feel is near, destroyed me and my troop. Destroyed, yet not annihilated, I awoke, but had no knowledge of myself. I awoke to the kindnesses of an old man whom I have since learned to call father—a man who could have killed me, and should have, for I had slain his five sons. But he showed me love and called me his child.

"I went on a long journey with these Returners, whom I now call friends, and learned of all the evil done at the hands of the empire, done at the behest of the Emperor himself. This is why I grieve: for I see that not all men of the Empire are evil, and yet we are destined to fill out our destinies on this dread mountain and kill each other with the sword."

Astonishment sat on Leo's face. "You never spoke a truer word, Terra, you who are lovelier than all women. An equal measure of grief weighs on my heart. And yet, if you will be persuaded by me, as is right, I think we may avoid more bloodshed and the bitter destruction. It is not divine Emperor Gestaul who is chiefly to blame for the late sins (which I pretend not to defend) of the Empire, which ere now has ruled with peace and justice in sweet and harmonious mixture. His ears have been filled with evil counsels and his mind seduced with dreams of life everlasting, which is ever dear to the heart of those who rule, even to those who rule well. I love the Emperor as my own father, and I love the Empire, my home. I fight for the principles on which our mighty kingdom was founded and which have sadly fallen into decay. Do not believe that all the Empire (and the Emperor's own heart) is united in these evil designs. If that were so, I would be struck dead where I stand for uttering these words. The Emperor knows that if he should so ask it of me, I would fall upon my own sword. I tell you, the answer is not rebellion but reform.

"But if you will not be persuaded—and even the immortal gods, who are ever stronger than men, can be turned from their wrath with prayers and sacrifices—then let the Returners choose from among them a champion to contend with me in single combat. If he should kill me, then may the gods deal with my men (be it ever so severely) if they do not leave strong-walled Narsha, not setting fire to any house nor taking the smallest apple for plunder. But if I kill him, do you then, gray-eyed beautiful Terra, suffer yourself to go back with us to our everlasting city, and we will go with what gifts the chiefs of the Narshans think fit to bestow upon their conquerors. Elsewise, we must go on killing each other until one of us is destroyed utterly. Speak, King Edgar or stalwart Banon, are these terms not fair?"

"They are," said Banon, "And now I think we will cast lots to see who will fight you, for I see that both the regal sons of Figaro, King Edgar and his formidable brother Sabin, are eager to challenge you, and the heart within my breast urges me to do the same."

The lots were cast, and the lot fell to Edgar.


	37. Part 2, Chapter 19

CHAPTER NINETEEN

THE ESPER

A space in the hard-packed snow and four marshals (two from each side) were appointed for the contest which was to take place between godlike Edgar and glorious Leo. Terra of the flame-colored hair watched both men approach each other. Her heart was heavy, and she prayed that both men might come away unhurt, though each was to fight until the other was dead. Somewhere in the distance she heard the mechanical whine of machines moving, and a sense of foreboding grew in her heart.

King Edgar of the red armor took his shining shield, his great sword girt to his side, and a throwing spear in his hand, stepped into the circle, gave a great war cry which put great heart-fear into all that heard it, and cast his spear. It struck the perfect center of General Leo's shield, in the midpoint of the handle in the iron scepter embossment. The spearhead did not pass through but was bent back by the triple-folded bronze. The force of the throw would have made another man give way, but the strong calf of Leo as he stood with one leg braced back did not suffer him to be moved.

Next mighty Leo, general and king of many southern lands, and the Emperor's mightiest warrior, balanced his far-shadowing spear, and giving a great cry which quaked the heart of every man, threw. Hardly had his cry reached the ears of the men before the sound of his spear striking the perfect center of Edgar's shield—a sound like a thunderclap—was heard, so mightily had it been thrown. Leo's spear, however, did not penetrate the invincible shield of the Kings of Figaro, but the spearhead was bent back in the place where the shield told of the wars of the Magi, which took place thousands of years ago and laid waste to the whole of Middan Erd. But the force of the cast made Edgar take two steps backward, and thereafter his shield-arm sagged low, which made beautiful Terra fear for his very life. For now they put away their throwing spears and went at each other furiously with their swords. They exchanged many sad strokes. Ten times Leo the god-like's sword fell in strength upon the shield of King Edgar, and ten times he raised it to take the blow, though at all other times it hung low on his injured arm.

Terra could hardly bear to look, always fearing that the next stroke would fall upon Edgar's head and pierce the shining helm. But King Edgar fought on, repelling the dire onslaught of mighty Leo. So great was the king's endurance that it became the matter of song, and the tale of his ox-strength was told to Figaroan children in the years that followed these sad events. Indeed, far from waning under Leo's sword, as the dire combat wore on, Edgar's strength waxed huge even as Leo's was spent. At last, when Edgar's strokes became equal in number to those of his enemy, General Leo took a step backward. Terra and all the Returners who had despaired of their king gasped in astonishment, and cheered. Then Leo took a second step backward. Soon it was all he could do to fend off man-slaughtering Edgar's onslaught, and truly then Edgar seemed more than mortal.

Finally Edgar's sword fell and struck General Leo in the hip in the place where the plates meet. His strong sword cut through the chainmail covering and opened a wide gash in his leg, which spurted blood onto the snow. With a cry of pain, Leo fell to the ground, his thigh's strength leaving him. Edgar raised his sword for a final stroke, and surely Leo would have lost his life, but he was not to fill out his destiny under the king's sword.

Terra, who had in spite of herself had been moving closer to the combat, cried out and ran past the marshals with a speed that no mortal, not even Locke, could match. And now all were witness to a great wonder, for Terra caught the blade in her hand as it fell to claim the imperialist's life. So mighty was the stroke that the sword—with a great shattering clang—broke in two, leaving half the blade in Terra's hand and the hilt in Edgar's. All remained motionless. The fire cooled in Terra's eyes and her hair settled about her. All stood amazed (even Celes) at the stroke that should have cut her asunder.

Terra herself, with the great surge of power, felt the Dreaded One leap forward inside her, so that one more such exertion of Terra's power would bring Her upon her, to her everlasting undoing.

They had not long to stand astonished, however, for a sickening boom was heard, followed by a deafening explosion which sent up a geyser of snow and death. It had fallen among the seated Returners, but so great had been the blast that some of the imperials had been killed as well.

And now I must relate the saddest tale that has ever been told or remembered in the history of the world. My heart has no strength left to tell it, unless He Who gives men breath carry me through it as He carried those who suffered the thing itself.

There came upon the Returners and Narshans the vile coward, Kefka, with his magitek tanks, full of bloodlust and eager like a lion who has once tasted the flesh of men and thereafter hunts only men—an abomination, since flesh was created to serve spirit, and not spirit to serve flesh. Just so, all-devouring Kefka came on, bringing with him the sad destruction.

The stricken General Leo waved to Kefka to call off his doom-dealing engines, but merciless Hatred had possessed him, and like a demon Kefka sent his magitek tanks among them all. Until the Returners turned and ran up the plateau towards the summit, almost as many imperialists were slaughtered as Returners.

Huge and raptor-like, the false bird-gods ran bobbing among the fleeing Narshans, trampling them underfoot with their taloned feet and crushing them into the earth. Then when the tanks had run past them, they turned and ran through them again, staining the sad mountain with bloody guts and entrails, until they had turned the whole plane into a wine press of human flesh.

Terra, Banon, Edgar, and the others ran towards the peak, and as they flew the light—which had been fading before—grew.

At last the heart within Banon could stand no longer to see the evil carnage wrought upon his men. Turning back, he found a huge tank charging and ran to meet it. Giving a war cry so great that it sounded like a hundred men had cried out in one voice, he ran with all his might at the machine. At the last moment he hefted his huge ax above his head and struck it. The sound rang out across the plain, if indeed it was not heard over the whole earth. Never had a mortal struck a mightier blow. If Terra's eyes had not deceived her—and indeed it was as clear as day in the strange light—the death-engine gave back, and the invincible machine fell to one knee.

But now the magitek tank rose and, extending a metal arm with a blade at the end of it, smote off Banon's head. His huge lifeless trunk fell to the ground, and his great spirit rose out of the eruption of blood into the sad, soul-strewn air.

Terra screamed, and divine wrath sprang into her heart. Then Terra raised her hand against the murderous machines. The earth shook violently and the stars disappeared from the heavens, and all was encompassed in eerie blue light. The storm clouds above grew and flashed in matchless anger, and forked lightning shore away the night. Then, with her hand extended in furious wrath against the magitek tanks, great earth-shaking bolts of lightning fell upon the machines—first one, then another, and then the last, until all three were blown apart and utterly destroyed by esperial fire.

And then it happened. She Whom Terra had so dreaded to meet arrived. She was standing in the doorway of her mind. Terra had only to turn around—and be unmade. The slightest movement, physical or emotional, would end all. She was still, and all was still. The very snow had ceased to fall, and hung suspended in the air. Somehow she was yet sensible that her friends were with her—Locke, Edgar, Sabin, and Celes—though she had not turned her head to see them. When she did, moving ever so slowly, she found their faces illumined by the strange light, and awe and terror was in them. But they were not looking at her. They were looking behind her.

Terra turned around. And there before her was the Esper. As she had dreamed of it so many times before, there it was, frozen inside a great mass of ice that shone like a prism, its wings outspread and its eyes alight with divine fire. And the fire was growing.

What caused Terra to do this has never been told, but if she had not spoken, all might have been annihilated.

Terra, unflinching, looked straight into the Esper's eyes and cried out: "WHO AM I?"

A thunderous voice replied from the icebound Esper, "Atrytoné."

And then it was as if a veil had lifted, and Terra shone forth like the sun, beautiful and terrifying to look upon. She had the appearance of lightning, as if light had been growing, building underneath the veil of her humanity the whole time, only now bursting forth. Her body was brilliant white, clothed in light, and her eyes shone like violet jewels. Her hair waved like fire—neither flame nor hair—white with tongues of purple.

Terra the goddess was lifted a little way above their heads with arms outstretched. Her unveiled beauty evoked in Edgar not lust but fear and reverence—it drove all other thoughts from his mind and left him broken and empty and clean. Without noticing it, Locke and the others had fallen to their knees in fear and trembling. Some had even begun to cry. With a sudden realization, Locke felt that he was not worthy to look upon such a good and beautiful thing. Here was Goodness itself, but it did not make him feel safe and happy as he might have expected, but afraid and guilty, knowing he was not good. This is what it was to look upon the goddess.

While Locke remained kneeling and silent, listening to the violet-streaked white light pouring out of the goddess like the roar of a distant waterfall with a faint strain of ethereal song which filled him with great sorrow and great joy at the same time; while he remained kneeling thus, the goddess seemed to take pity on him. She glided down towards him and without word or touch forced him to look her in the eyes. What he saw there, in those violet eyes, was not the wrath that Locke deserved, but wells of infinite love and mercy. She touched his lips with two fingers; they burned like live coals, but somehow he did not cry out, and when she had lifted them again he was left unburned. Locke felt waves of joy and gratitude welling up inside him.

But suddenly everything changed. Terra's humanity, not a mere veil but as much her nature as the goddess, returned. Locke saw in her eyes the moment Terra came back. She looked at her kneeling friends, at the dead men on the plane, and finally at her transfigured self. And then from the floodgates of her heart a torrential scream broke forth like a hurricane. The cry was cosmic. A blast of wind hit Locke full in the face. Terra's scream made the mountains shudder and send back her cry with undiminished force. Locke could not separate her scream from his own, her grief from his. All he knew was that he had suddenly been seized by a despair and loneliness so great that it threatened to crush him or drive him mad. He was on his knees, clutching his bleeding ears. The last thing he knew before darkness overtook him was the scream fading into the distance as Terra shot away into the sky like a comet to the west.


	38. Part 2, Chapter 20

CHAPTER TWENTY

WESTWARD WENDING

When Locke awoke—or rather sprung fully conscious out of bed—he found himself in his own house, and Edgar, Celes, and Sabin were with him.

"What happened?" he cried, before anyone had a chance to speak. Then, reeling, he sat down hard on his bed again and put a hand to his head.

"Steady, Locke," said Edgar.

"Steady yourself! What happened to Terra? Did we win the war? Are we all dead? Speak, man! unless you are a ghost."

"Peace, Locke," said Celes with a note of exasperation in her voice. "Shut up and all will be explained.

Locke shut up, but his every nerve was alight with energy, and his mind raced.

"We were discussing tonight's strange happenings," said Edgar, "specifically Terra's...feats." Here he turned to Celes, and all eyes followed her.

For a moment Celes sat bemused, staring far away it seemed, until she became conscious that the others were waiting for her to speak.

"What happened on that mountain is beyond my knowledge," she said at last. "In Terra I saw a power not only greater than that of any magitek knight, but wholly _other_. She looked like..." Celes trailed off.

"What?" said Locke.

"An Esper," said Celes. Everyone had been thinking the same word.

Sabin, who was standing in the corner, his careworn brows furrowed in thought, said, "How is that possible?"

"I don't know," said Celes.

"And the war?" said Locke.

"With the imperial tanks destroyed, and seeing Terra's transformation, Kefka fled," said Edgar. "Leo too withdrew his forces and has gone back to Vector."

"They left without the frozen Esper?" said Locke.

"There is no Esper anymore," replied Edgar. "After Terra flew off, the light emanating from the ice faded and the Esper disappeared."

"Where'd it go?"

"Who knows?" said Celes. "Probably to its own world."

All of a sudden Locke exploded, but afterwards felt a strange sense of guilt for his loose tongue: "Holy shit! Banon's dead! Who's gonna lead us now?"

"There are not many left to be led, Locke," said Edgar gravely. Then they were all silent for a moment, as if something new was weighing heavily on their minds.

"What is it?" said Locke.

"There is one more thing," said Edgar. "Arvis is dead. He appeared to have succumbed to cold and exhaustion, although it seemed like he had lost the will to live—not out of despair, but rather because he had done all he had set out to do."

"What happened?" said Locke impatiently.

Edgar continued: "When the women and children returned, they found him in bed with a severe fever, almost delirious. We have just come from his house. When we told him what happened to Terra, he took a turn for the worse. But he died with a smile on his lips. One of the last things he said before he died was, "Bless her, dear child. My eyes have seen the glorious bride, Terra Triumphant. Praised be the gods!"

There was another long silence.

Finally, Locke jumped up and said, "What are you all sitting around for?"

"What's in your mind?" said Edgar inquisitively, though staid by the general grief.

"I'm going to find Terra. The Empire will be after her more than ever now, and no matter how much that kid packs a punch, she's still gonna need my help. Are you all coming with me?"

Everyone replied affirmatively.

"Yes, of course we will," said Edgar. "But where will you search?"

"You all saw her fly off to the west, right?"

They all said that they had.

"Then I'm going west."


End file.
